Charms, I'm sure
by SJMuggle
Summary: Eight years after fighting the Battle at Hogwarts, George Weasley never anticipated a return to the castle. He certainly never anticipated reuniting with an old friend in a very new way. A George/Hermione story.
1. Chapter 1

**Charms, I'm sure **

Disclaimer: Not mine, JK Rowling's. Only my second story and I'm quite self-conscious about writing – so please be kind! Thanks!

Summary: Eight years after fighting the Battle at Hogwarts, George Weasley never anticipated a return to the castle. He certainly never anticipated reuniting with an old friend in a very new way. A George/Hermione story.

Author's Note: Story is cannon up until the epilogue. For the most part, the epilogue is ignored. Also, I'm really sorry that I kept the whole Fred thing the same, it seemed necessary for the story even though I hate it. It is Eight years after the battle of Hogwarts and that is where this story starts. Thank you to anyone reading!

_Author's Note: Starts on a bit of a downer note, but it's going to pick up. So if the initial tone is turning you off, don't worry, it won't last. I haven't really determined the overall direction, so any suggestions would be fantastic. _

**Chapter One **

George Weasley slunk into his flat and cast a spell to bring light to the room. Without care, he tossed his bright magenta Weasley Wizard Wheezes robes over the back of his couch. Following his typical evening routine he poured several fingers of firewhiskey into a glass tumbler and sank into the couch. His flat was only noteworthy for its starkness. The beige walls were a far cry from the bright orange ones of his previous abode. It lacked any sort of embellishments or friendly personal touches. His sister, Ginny, had brought over pictures and some of these adorned the mantle, tiny images of their family waving from the yard of the Burrow or on past vacations. Pictures of George or his twin were noticeably absent. His little sister referred to a flat as a work in progress, but George knew that after eight years, he was unlikely to make it any cozier. After the final battle at Hogwarts, he had vacated his flat over his joke shop and settled in a smaller place several blocks off of Diagon Alley in a popular residence on Waverington Avenue. The new flat may have been missing the warmth of the last, but it perfectly sufficed for its function; namely a place to eat and a place to sleep.

With only the silence surrounding him, George sipped his drink. The first few tastes of the rich, bold whiskey started to clear his head and would, he knew, help him fall into a deep-enough slumber later that night. Quickly flicking his wand and mumbling a simple spell, George produced tiny, holograph images, which whirled around above his coffee table. Curling his feet beneath him, he studied the images, trying to find the familiar red-head on her broom. He easily spotted his little sister; she was all over the pitch, performing dizzying maneuvers, completing whirling top-speed turns, and easily scoring on the Cannons' hapless Keeper.

George sighed and swirled his drink before taking another gratifying sip. If Ginny had her way, he would have been at the match, sitting in the stands, cheering along with his parents, Ron, Harry, and young Teddy. George watched as the tiny hologram of his baby sister set up a spectacular give-and-go which led to another goal; putting the Harpies well ahead of the bottom-dwelling Cannons. He imagined his family members in the bleachers, matching in burgundy Harpies' hats and scarves, leading the supporters in cheers for the feisty Chaser, and wondered if he should have joined them at the match.

"Probably for the best I didn't," He mentally concluded. Even close to a decade after his twin's passing, his family still treaded lightly around George, seemingly convinced that the tiniest thing could spiral him back into the darkness he had faced following the battle. Images of his Mum's fussing, of Ginny's sympathetic smiles, and Harry and Ron's forced attempts at strained conversation rendered him decidedly content in his decision to stay late at the joke shop and to come straight away to his flat after everything at work was in order. The times when Molly or Ginny managed to coax George over to the Burrow were certainly not unpleasant, but George always felt somewhat uncomfortable. Everyone had seemed eager to move on following the culminating battle. Ginny and Harry had quickly married a few short years after and were already discussing having children once Ginny retired from Quidditch. Ron was happily living in the twins' old flat with Anna, his new girlfriend, while working as a respected Auror. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were simply content to entertain the five grandchildren Bill and Percy had given them. That George's life had become a bit stagnant was not lost on anyone. He had been working at the same shop for close to ten years – albeit a lucrative business which he owned – and, even though he was approaching his thirties, had yet to settle down and start a family.

George stared at his now-empty glass, contemplating a refill, when his pondering was disturbed by a sharp tapping on his flat's window. Wandering over to the window, his bright blue eyes peered though the pane, into the darkness, in an attempt to discern what was causing the disturbance. He couldn't get a sense of what created the noise, but the tapping continued so he opened his window slightly. A large, charcoal grey, barn owl pushed its way into George's living space. It fluttered across the room and perched on the coffee table, disturbing the holographic Quidditch match.

"What do you got there boy?" George spoke out loud to the bird before relieving it of the parchment in its beak. The large owl hovered around the living room while George located a treat for it. Cocking its head to the side the bird looked at George expectantly. George slid open the window slightly wider and the animal flew out into the late twilight before George even had a chance to unseal the letter in his hand. Turning his thoughts from the bird, George carefully broke the deep red seal, unfolded the parchment, and deciphered the tight, slanted cursive.

"Mr. George Weasley," – The letter read – "I require your presence immediately. Sincerely, Hogwarts Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall."

George eyed the letter with confusion. Professional McGonagall was often economical with her words, but it wasn't like her to be so cryptic. Pushing aside concerns related to the correspondence, George set down his glass and shut off the Quidditch match.

"I'll go see McGonagall tomorrow," He figured, headed towards his bed, hoping for an undisturbed night's sleep.

-o-O-o-

George awoke early as he always did. He was mildly surprised to be greeted by a bright, morning light pouring in his bedroom window, landing on his bed in a split-up pattern from the blinds. Sunshine was never a guarantee in England, not even in late August. George contemplated rolling over and trying to get back to sleep. He wasn't going to go into the shop so there was no immediate need for him to be up and about. Weasley Wizard Wheezes barely required George's presence in order to function. He only really needed to go in on occasion to ensure that the stock was current and that the employees were happy. Nevertheless, George could usually be located in the cluttered workroom at the back of the shop, experimenting with new products or fiddling with old ones. It was the best task for keeping his mind off of reality. Other than the instances where he would instinctively glance up, eager to show his twin a new improvement or an interesting progress, it was the ideal distraction. Fortunately, such moments were growing fewer and further between.

Getting up won out over staying in and George slid off his double bed, curious to discover why Professor McGonagall had insisted on presence. He gulped; every previous time McGonagall had asked him to her office the results had been undesirable – usually George having to spend time in detention. Even secure in the knowledge that he could no longer receive discipline at Hogwarts, George still felt somewhat nervous.

Pulling on his nicest pair of jeans, he discarded his t-shirt in favour of an unwrinkled, grey button down. For formality sake, he dug his old black dress robe out of his closet and hung it over his shoulders. His orange hair had grown well past his one good ear and brushed his shoulders. He hoped Professor McGonagall wouldn't be as disproving of the shaggy locks as his mum. Regretfully he looked around his room for a comb he already knew didn't exist, and settled on running a hand through his hair in a fruitless attempt to make it look less messy.

-o-O-o-

He wandered the several blocks from Waverington Avenue to the appropriate apparition zone on Diagon Alley. As he walked, he kept his head down, wanting to avoid forced pleasantries with anyone who might recognize him. Reaching the apparaton zone, he quickly disappeared and rematerialized in almost the same instance in Hogsmeade. The town was quiet, but not deserted. There were some people milling around, going from shop to shop or stopping for late breakfasts. George did is best to keep his eyes diverted. The tall red head knew that he was still a recognizable figure in the wizard community. He passed the Hogsmeade branch of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, but declined entering; there was no need for him to check out the shop he already knew was running smoothly.

With some surprise, George had discovered that the mouth of one of his old tunnels had been reopened. Slinking behind Honeydukes, he noticed the two unfolding doors on the ground. They looked as if they merely led to a cellar, but years of experience had taught George otherwise. Stooping down to unhinge the door, George leapt into the dark, gaping hole, landing with a gentle thud on the packed down dirt.

"Lumos," He muttered, bringing a dim source of light to the tunnel. It was smaller than he remembered. Hunching over and being mindful to not rub his sleeve on the dirt, he made his way down the passage. Gradually the tunnel grew larger and he was able to almost walk upright. Soon the darkness faded and light appeared ahead of him. He kept walking until he stumbled into one of Hogwarts third-floor corridors. The wide hallway was empty except for a few clay busts and several free-standing suits of armor. George was confused momentarily until he recalled that he had never been at Hogwarts during a period when there had not been students inhabiting the castle. As he walked, the eyes of dozens of portraits turned to follow him. George noticed some differences in the halls from the last time he had been in the building, but did his best to repress any such memories.

Eventually, George approached the end of the main floor corridor where the base of the headmaster's tower lay. He assumed this was where the now Headmistress McGonagall had her office. He'd never been to the office without being taken there and when he reached the appropriate location neither a door nor an entrance way was detectable. The wall was adorned with portraits and several kitschy paintings of cabins. A large, gothic stone statue of a crouched cat sat in the corner. George studied the brick of the wall, hoping to find an opening.

"Ahh, Professor McGonagall? Are you there?" He inquired aloud.

"Who, may I ask, is looking for her?" The stone cat turned its head with a creak to face George. It continued in a deep, regal voice: "And what is your business?"

"Ahh – G-George Weasley," George stuttered, shocked at having received a response from the statue. "I'm here because Pro-er, Headmistress McGonagall wanted to see me."

"Very well. Wait here." The feline commanded firmly. Abruptly the statute crumbled into to the stone floor, leaving a pile of rubble behind. George stared at the place where the cat used to stand. Before he could consider any other options than simply standing still, the floor vibrated slightly and the cluttered pieces of stones and dust began to stack themselves back into place. Clicking rhythmically the pile of rubble soon began to readopt a cat-like form. With one final shake, the statue had resumed its feline appearance.

"Headmistress McGonagall is willing to see you now," The statute purred. On cue, one of the cottage paintings expanded in size until it took up the better part of the wall. The door of the painted lodge swung open and the stone cat lifted a paw, indicating that George was to enter through the acrylic door.

"Er, thanks mate," George said with a quick wave to the statue and stooped to enter the doorway.

Professor McGonagall's office was far warmer than he had anticipated from his knowledge of the severe Transfiguration instructor. The walls were draped in rich, burgundy fabric curtains. A soft beige couch and a matching beige chair sat in front of a large, granite fireplace which housed flames sparking with reds, golds, and occasional greens. Formidable bronze candle holders stood on either side of the fireplace, providing light to the room. A floating globe hovered between the couch and the chair, flickering with pinhole lights at random. Where the curtains hung open, George was able to note that the room was encircled by bookshelves. They extended to the ceiling and were stocked full of mainly hardcover, bound books of various sizes and colors. On one side of the office a large, sturdy, mahogany desk stood, strewn with a collection of books and parchments. In a high-backed, chair covered in green velvet, Professor McGonagall sat sorting though the parchments, making occasional notes with a fine, feather quill.

"Ah, Weasley. Lovely. Thank you for visiting me." McGonagall spoke kindly and rose from her chair. She removed her glasses and let them hang around her neck, secured by a delicate chain. The lines on her face had deepened since the battle and her hair had completely turned white. George thought she looked much older and more tired than she had when he had last seen her. Of course, he also did.

"Why did you want to see me, Professor McGonagall?" George asked after the proper greetings were engaged. McGonagall sank into the chair by the fireplace and motioned to the couch.

"Have a seat Weasley. Would you care for some tea?" George shook his head and McGonagall continued. "I'm afraid we're in a bit of a pinch. Term starts shortly and Hogwarts is without a professor of Charms."

"And?"

"And I was hoping that you would be willing to accept the position." McGonagall stated straightforwardly.

"Me?"

"Yes, you, Weasley." McGonagall's dark eyes stared over her nose at the red-head in such a way that George was immediately transported back to the times when he was a student and facing detention.

"But-but, I'm hardly qualified. I mean, you remember how I left school. I didn't even complete seven full years."

"Of course I recall that, Weasley" – McGonagall replied; George wondered if he saw a smile flicker on the corner of her mouth – "However, I'm sure we can both agree that you left under, well, extenuating circumstances. Besides, I am well aware that you returned a short time after to complete your tests. Your NEWT scores were exceptional and, in particular, your Charms marks were in the top percentile that I have seen in my lengthy tenure at Hogwarts. Also, I am familiar with your work and, although I do not approve of its nature, I must admit that the magic is, at the very least, incredibly remarkable."

"Er." George felt a tinge of embarrassment to receive praise from the usually reserved Headmistress. "B-but, I've never taught before,"

"And yet, it seems as if many of our students have learned so much from you," George was certain that McGonagall's grin was no longer merely in his imagination.

"Surely you must have more qualified candidates, Professor McGonagall," George spoke hesitantly, attempting to find another excuse to avoid the position. He couldn't comprehend why he, of all people, was being considered for professorship.

"Well, you see, unfortunately we're in a bit of a bind. When Fil-Professor Flitwick passed so suddenly –" McGonagall's voice strained at the mention of the departure of her old friend – "We were left without anyone to fill the role. Frankly, Weasley, you would really be helping us out of a tight spot should you accept."

"And you think I could really be the Charms instructor?" George asked incredulously; he had always seen his future lying well outside the academic realm.

"I really do. George" – McGonagall addressed him by his given name; an unusual gesture from the woman – "We are quite at a lost. Even if you were to just come on for a year, you'd really be paying me a sizable favour. And besides, I see here that you're almost thirty,"

"I'm only twenty-seven." George interjected.

"As I was saying, you're almost thirty – surely you could use a new adventure."

George contemplated what she said. McGonagall was right; his life did need a jolt from somewhere, something to coax him out of his rut. He never considered returning to Hogwarts, not given how many bad memories were associated with the place. However, there was something in his old professor's words or tone that resounded with him. Perhaps she was right; perhaps the instructor's job was exactly what he needed. Also, if there was one thing a Weasley twin could never shy away from, it was the prospect of a new adventure.

"You really think I can do this?" George asked, feeling uncharacteristic self-doubt.

"I wouldn't ask you if I didn't Weasley,"

"Just a year?"

"Just for a year," Professor McGonagall's normally severe face broke into a certain softness and George sensed that she did have confidence in him, even if it was perhaps misguided. His curiosity and need to discover if he could manage the roll overwhelmed his concerns and the ease of merely remaining with the status quo.

"You know what, Professor McGonagall, I don't know why, but I will take the job." George breathed deeply feeling a tinge of nerves. Notwithstanding, he instinctively smiled after offering his confirmation; something told him he was making the right decision.

"Excellent. And as we're to be colleagues, I think it best you call me Minerva."

"Alright. When shall I start, Pro-er, Minerva, um, Professor McGonagall?"

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Second chapter is ready to go and will be posted tomorrow. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two **

George surveyed his emptied flat, shocked at just how stark it seemed. He had spent the few days since his meeting with McGonagall, shrinking and condensing his possessions until they fit easily into a single suitcase. All that was left was a couch, bed, dresser, and some kitchen appliances. The flat hadn't always seemed this small. George sighed and looked at his watch; he still had some time until Brendon, one of his employees, would be over to sublet the flat. He took one last walk through the rooms, remembering the time spent there: nights nursing a firewhisky, reading the Daily Prophet, or watching Quidditch matches. There was hardly an overflow of cherished memories.

George wandered from the kitchen, to the bedroom, to the washroom. He studied his face in the round mirror overhanging the washroom sink. Groaning slightly at the bags under his eyes – an unfortunate product of spoiled sleep and long hours in the workshop – George's gaze turned to his hair. After the Death Eater attack above Privet Drive, he had taken to wearing his hair long in an effort to cover the gruesome torn flesh that had once been his ear. Lately, he had let his hair grow even longer, more so out of carelessness than style. Unlike his brother Bill, whose pony-tale came across as glamourous and dangerous, the long hair didn't suit George at all. It merely made him look unkempt, lazy, and sallow.

Hastily, George decided his look required a change. He was going to be a professor, after all; not someone who spent all their time in a workshop in a joke store. With a few deft flicks of his wand, his hair was suddenly cut close to his skull, the discarded, orange locks strewn on his broad shoulders. Brushing the hair onto his floor, he ran a hand through the shorn locks, liking the way the almost-stubble felt. The cropped style suited him: it brought attention back to his bright blue eyes and favourably accentuated his slightly angular features. He looked younger with the short hair and the tiredness that had crept onto his face seemed to subside. The ragged hole that used to be his ear was revealed, his flesh spiking in a rough tear around the opening. It was the type of wound no one would assume one came by accidently, only an attack could create something so ghastly. George smiled; the injury would hopefully buy him immediate respect from his students, or, at least, intimidate them into listening to his lectures. If he couldn't impress them with his intelligence or strong oratory skills, perhaps he could win over his future class with sheer toughness.

"Mr. Weasley?" George heard a knock at his door followed by the query. He quickly brandished his wand and swept away the shorn locks.

"Be right there," He called through the door. Opening it, he greeted the lanky youth on his threshold. "Thanks for coming by, Brendon."

"Oh yah, of course, so I can really, like, live here?" Brendon inquired, striding into the room in the manner of confidence often possessed by men of his young age and impressive height. George grinned because the boy reminded him of his past self.

"Yah sure, just no raging parties or anything though. I don't want to come back and find my flat totaled."

"Nothing of the sort, Mr. Weasley." The youth smiled, gleefully admiring his new abode.

"Ok, because I might have to have Lee come by and check up on you if I expect otherwise." George replied good-naturedly. Brendon had been a hardworking and reliable employee for a number of years and George was certain he would make a fine tenant.

"I can't believe you're going to be an instructor at Hogwarts, Mr. Weasley,"

"I can't either, Brendon."

"I wish you were my Prof. You would have been so brilliant."

"I hope so." George lingered on the thought, reassured by the boy's approval.

"Oh yah, obviously. Say, can I have girls here?" Brendon changed the topic abruptly, his dark eyes gleaming in such a way that George immediately recalled the manner of his old friend Lee, the boy's uncle.

"No,"

"Oh, too bad,"

"I need your full attention on the shop," George grinned, knowing that his rebuff would be unlike to prevent the outgoing and well-liked Brendon from using his flat for entertainment purposes. "You and Lee are going to have to keep her afloat for me." Since Ron had become a full-time Auror, only George and Lee were left as active managing partners.

"Yah ok, I'm sure Lee and I will be able to find a way to run your store into the ground," Brendon groaned, rolling his eyes sarcastically, referencing the fact that Weasley Wizard Wheezes was successful enough to thrive without George.

"It's my baby, Bren. Take good care of her," George tried to sound light, but a slight creak in his voice underlined his true emotions. It was hard for him to say goodbye, even temporarily, to the store that he and his twin had started from just a few good ideas, some entrepreneurial spirit, and a love of pranks. He quickly pushed such qualms to one side, knowing that taking the instructor job at Hogwarts was a beneficial action. "Bye, Brendon. Behave yourself," George laughed. He didn't know whether to hug the boy goodbye, so they ended up awkwardly shaking hands and patting each other's backs in farewell. George summoned his trunk and guided the floating receptacle out the door.

-o-O-o-

He had decided to travel to Hogwarts by broom. It was a long flight, but one that he enjoyed. He figured the time would give him an opportunity to clear his mind and mentally prepare for the upcoming term. Securing his trunk to his broom, George hoisted his leg over the broom, steadying it before shooting into the air. As he flew, George felt more and more comfortable with his decision to accept the Hogwarts position; a feeling that may have been largely derivative of how much he enjoyed being in the air. He turned to ensure that his trunk was still firmly attached to his broom. Looking down he could barely see London fading away behind him, like a tiny replica of a city far in the distance.

George soon settled into a maintainable clip, moving fast enough to cover ground but not so fast that he had to hold on with a vice-grip grasp. The day was clear and sunny: perfect for flying. At the lofty altitude the air nipped the exposed skin on his face, but was oddly refreshing, lifting George's spirits with every kilometre he covered. He stopped several times to rest in the highlands and to have lunch or a snack. As evening approached, George finally could make out a familiar lake ahead of him. Then the tallest of Hogwarts' towers came into sight. Soon the entire castle was visible. George tried to suppress the horrible memory associated with the building and instead focused on the good ones. Seeing the Quidditch pitch come into view made that easier.

George swooped into an empty courtyard in the middle of the castle and hopped off his broom, enjoying having his feet reunited with firm grass. The courtyard had changed drastically from the last time George was there. Gone were the debris, the destruction, and other casualties of war, instead replaced with a manicured lawn surrounded by cleverly-trimmed topiary shrubs. Several granite statutes adorned the corners. George easily recognized the familiar lion, eagle, snake, and badger figures. Tossing his broom over one shoulder and hoisting his trunk on the other, George wandered into the Entrance Hall, unsure as to where he was to take his things. Professor McGonagall was standing in the hall talking to a slender, curly haired man somewhere around George's age.

"Ah lovely, I was wondering when we would be seeing you," McGonagall looked up from her conversation, her grey eyes meeting George's blue ones. Both the Headmistress and the young man were clad in dark, formal robes embellished with the Hogwarts crest.

"Oh hi, Professor McGonagall…er, where do you want me to put this?" George shrugged in the direction of his trunk.

"You'll be in Filius' old office. I figured that made the most sense, even though you're not head of Ravenclaw. Higgs" – McGonagall turned to address her companion – "Would you mind showing Weasley to his quarters?"

"No problem Minerva," The young man spoke in an enthusiastic voice while nodding eagerly. He smiled brightly down at McGonagall.

"Excellent, it's lovely you're here, Weasley. Welcome to our faculty." McGonagall briskly left the Entrance Hall, leaving George alone with the stranger.

"Er, I'm George Weasley. New Charms instructor," George volunteered by way of introduction as the man led him up the grand, marble staircase and towards the West Tower.

"Ah yes, I'm aware. Minerva said we were expecting you. I'm Terence Higgs, by the way. Defence against the Dark Arts professor, head of Slytherin. Starting my fourth year here. Those are the basics." His guide smiled widely, flashing a row of white teeth. George didn't have time to contemplate the fact the bad luck associated with that particular professorial post had obviously been alleviated because his companion had followed up with a question: "Say, you look familiar." Terence had continued in a friendly, if slightly pompous, manner: "What class were you?"

"Ah, '96," George hesitated, not wanting to mention the fact that he didn't complete his final year with the rest of his class.

"Of course, '94 here. Say, weren't you a Gryffindor Beater?"

"Yup," George grinned, please that the conversation had landed on one of his favourite topics. "We won the Cup in '94," George continued proud of his team's victory in his fifth year.

"I was certain I played against you. Slytherin Seeker." Terence boasted, making a quick motion towards his own chest. George didn't mention how he only remembered the other man because he had been replaced at Seeker by Draco Malfoy. He figured it best to be civil with his new colleagues, even those who represented Slytherin. "There were two of you back then, weren't there," His companion smiled, evidently pleased with his attempt at humor.

"Er…There were two of us then. Now there's….just me," George didn't fancy exploring that conversation and raised his eyebrows furtively at Terrence to indicate that the topic was a non-starter.

"Oh, wow, sorry mate. I should have known. One of those things I'm sure I've heard…" Terence sounded sympathetic and worriedly ran a hand through his chestnut curls.

"No. Don't-er, not a problem," George tried to brush off the mention of his twin, but it had affected him; he had come back to Hogwarts to start afresh, not to deal with past pains.

The two men walked in silence, making their way down bricked corridors, walking through several rounded archways, passing dozens upon dozens of moving portraits. Some of the portraits waved or called out greetings, a few friendly faces even addressing George or Terence by name, but for the most part the artwork ignored the pair. George noticed subtle changes about the castle – several new statues, the placement of certain staircases, the colour of the bricks in some of the corridors – but, for the most part, the building had been perfectly restored to the beauty it possessed before the significant damages from the battle. George tried to maintain his eyes directly ahead of him. He knew there was nothing productive in lingering on the walls; they would only remind him of the one that had fallen. Finally, the pair reached the West Tower and began the assent.

"Well this is where I leave you," Terrence mentioned when they reached the seventh floor and the door to George's new abode. "Feel free to use any sort of protective charms on your place."

George nodded and smiled at his colleague. The man was pleasant if a bit smug. He held himself a little too erect, but his smile didn't seem disingenuous and he had worn an agreeable expression in his pale blue eyes. Still, if George had to wager, he would bet Terrence came from an old money, purebred family. George hoped the Defence against the Dark Arts instructor didn't share the prejudices some wizard bloodlines possessed, particular those of the Slyterin tradition; he wanted to enjoy his new surroundings, something made more likely by getting along with colleagues. The pair exchanged a firm handshake and George was impressed with the weight behind the other man's grip.

"I'm sure I'll be able to figure out something. New Charms instructor and all. Thanks for the tour, mate," He waved to the retreating man and entered his new living space, eager to put down his possessions and settle in; the long flight had left him tired.

-o-O-o-

George's office was about the size of his old flat. In the centre there was a sturdy, red maple desk. George wondered if he would have enough papers to fill the large worktop. A high-back, four legged chair was pushed into the desk. The plush, maroon chair looked comfortable. George sat in it and found that it was. Stretching his long legs out under the desk, he felt relaxed and somewhat touched. The furniture was far too big for the diminutive Professor Flitwick, meaning someone had specifically equipped the room for his arrival or at least altered the existing desk and chair to suit the tall, new Charms teacher.

George placed his wand in front of him, propped his elbows on the hardwood of the desktop, and examined the rest of the room. Several empty bookshelves lined the walls. George cursed himself for not bringing anything to fill them. A maroon couch and matching chair were situated around a fireplace which he assumed was connected to the floo network. A dark red paneled door led, presumably, to George's living quarters. Otherwise, the room was free of any other touches. George figured that he should have brought ordainments or mementos to fill his office and provide the room some personality.

"Perhaps I'll make a trip to the Hogsmeade shop for some stuff," He thought, but was too weary to really care. George's thoughts, however, were interrupted by a sharp rapping on the door.

"Come in…" George called out, curious as to who was disturbing him. A dark-haired, young man stuck his head through the doorway. There was something about his green-grey eyes that reminded George of someone he had once known.

"Hey George, I heard you were here, thought I'd come by and say hello."

"Oh, Neville," – George responded, suddenly realizing the identity of the man – "How's it going? Come on in." Neville entered the office and he and George shook hands. It had been years since George had seen his former housemate. He tried to find a resemblance between the young man standing in front of him and the boy he had once tricked into eating a Canary Custard, but it was difficult. George now had to strain his neck to make eye contact with the young man. Neville didn't seem quite certain how to carry his height as his posture lacked straightness. He stood with the slight hunch of someone who was awkwardly, over-aware of their impressive stature. He also seemed unsure of what to do with his gangly arms, alternating between crossing them in front of him and letting them hang lifelessly by his side. Even so, the young man seemed to have acquired a quiet confidence that he had not possessed as a shy and bumbling student. His eyes no longer darted to the corners of the room and he had stopped constantly biting his lower lip. Neville had, however, clearly retained his fondness for knitwear as he was wearing a snug, blue stripped cardigan over his charcoal-grey corduroys.

"I'm well. Yourself?" Neville replied brightly, smiling widely, obviously ecstatic to have encountered a past fellow Gryffindor.

"Ahh…well…I'm pretty excited for this teaching jig," – George replied – "So, what are you doing here, mate?"

"I'm the Herbology instructor," Neville answered and George noted a gleam of pride in the younger man's expression. He knew Neville had an aptitude for the subject, but hadn't been aware that younger man's interests were so great.

"That's brilliant. So we're colleagues, eh?" George smiled, surprised at how pleased he was to have a familiar face on the premise.

"Looks like it," Neville repaid his grin. "Say, some of us are going to grab some back-to-work drinks. You interested?"

George didn't have to contemplate the offer for long. Despite the need to stifle an occasional yawn, he was eager to enjoy his time at Hogwarts and figured fitting in with the rest of the faculty could ensure that. Besides, Neville's offer was friendly and felt genuine.

"Yah, sounds brilliant. Ahh, can you give me a moment?" – George glanced down at his outfit: a fitted aqua blue t-shirt and faded jeans. It wasn't the best attire for going out, but he decided that it would be suitable for a casual evening with coworkers – "Never mind, let's head out of here. There's a passageway the tower over that will take us to Hogsmeade." Neville grinned, clearly amused at George's plan of transport. He stood up slightly straighter, a look of accomplishment brightening his face.

"George, we're professors now – we don't need to sneak around. The girls are already getting a carriage ready. Come on."

_Author's Note: Thanks to all who are reading and following and leaving lovely reviews. Knowing that people are reading makes writing much more enjoyable! _


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Author's Note: Not mine – belongs to JK Rowling. Thank you for reading! _

George and Neville strolled towards the Entrance Hall, making carefree conversation as they walked, catching each other up on the insignificant details of their lives. They walked out onto the Hogwarts grounds where an open wooden carriage was waiting for them. As George approached the buggy he purposely ignored the gruesome, sinewy, skeletal animal to which it was hitched. The winged, equine-like creature caused the skin of the back of his neck to prickle and his heart to beat feverishly. With his eyes downcast, George climbed into the back of the carriage. Two young women, a blonde and a brunette, were already seated at the front of the carriage, their backs to the thestral. George sunk into the carriage's wooden bench, facing the two witches.

"George!" Both exclaimed at the same time, their declarations heaped in surprise. George's eyes shot to the girls, realizing that, at how readily they recognized him, they must be familiar faces. The blonde's spun gold hair hung down her back in many perfect ringlets and her silver eyes gleamed dreamily.

"Oh hi Luna," George lifted his hand to wave a quick hello to his former Dumbledore's Army member. His gaze shifted to the other woman. Her wavy, nut-brown hair fell past her shoulders and was cut in a blunt bang across her forehead, barely displaying her large, round eyes. George had never realized that her deep brown lenses were flecked with gold.

"Miss Granger," George said, intentionally lengthening her surname, attempting to sound relaxed and collected despite his shock; Ginny had never mentioned to him that Hermione was teaching at Hogwarts. George wasn't sure how to properly greet the woman he had known since his young teenage years and who had spent Christmases and summers with his family. Since a handshake seemed too formal and impersonal, he attempted to stand and crouch over to give her a lopsided hug. His balance was disturbed by the unevenness of the carriage and his bent-over position; he ended up pitching forward, bumping her shoulder with his, before uneasily throwing his arms around her back.

"Erm, lovely to see you again…mate." George cringed at the poor execution of his hug. Tacking the nickname on to the end of his greeting didn't help him feel like less of a bumbler. Fortunately, Hermione returned his hug, seemingly nonplussed by his awkward embrace.

"George, it's so nice to see you. It's been too long." Her voice was soft in his good ear and she spoke kindly and sincerely. She wrapped her arms around his neck in a familiar manner, even though they hadn't seen each other in years. George turned and offered Luna a hug as well, which she woodenly accepted.

Neville joined the trio in the carriage and jostled the thestral's reign to start the beast walking. They made their way along the forest-lined path at a steady pace in the direction of the wizard village.

"Neville, how could you not tell us that George was joining our staff?" Hermione teasingly questioned her friend after they had been travelling for awhile. "We could have done something more celebratory than drinks at the Hog's Head to welcome him." There was an impish sparkle in her eye that amused George and he wondered what sort of event she would have planned had she had forewarning of his arrival.

"Er, well, if you two were talking with McGonagall today instead of just off doing your own thing, than you'd know," Neville replied with a sheepish grin and a hint of a flush rising on his cheeks.

"No worries, guys. Drinks at the Hog's Head sounds like exactly what I want," George quickly volunteered, hoping Neville wasn't feeling discouraged. It was clear that the younger man had planned the evening and was a bit anxious about everyone enjoying themselves. "So, what do you two do at Hogwarts?" George asked Luna and Hermione.

"Care of Magical Creatures," Luna informed him. She spoke airily and didn't remove her eyes from the passing trees.

"Oh no!" George exclaimed, hit with an abrupt shot of worry for the former owner of the particular post, Hagrid.

"Oh yah, don't worry" – Hermione stepped in, obviously having figured out George's concerns – "Hagrid's fine. He's still here as Games Keeper. You'll see him around. He just never really took to teaching. Luna took over from him a couple years back." George nodded, relieved that the friendly half-giant was alright. Scholastic endeavors probably weren't advisable for Hagrid; as a professor he had always been well-meaning but a bit inept.

"And you, Hermione?" George asked, staring at the young woman sitting directly across from him.

"I'm professor of History of Magic and Muggle Studies." Hermione grinned.

"Wow. You teach both subjects?" George had wanted to sound nonchalantly impressed, but was worried that he came across as sarcastic and condescending. "Er, I mean…two people used to teach those classes." He fumbled byway of a follow up. Hermione laughed.

"Well, sort of. Binns, who taught History, was a ghost so I don't know how you'd qualify him. But yah, they haven't been taught by the same person in some time. When I came on for Muggle Studies, McGonagall wanted me to take History as well. Binns never really cared about engaging the students and McGonagall figured that History was a class Hogwarts could no longer afford to treat lightly. Since they're two subjects I've studied and I'm interested in, I thought 'what the hell.' It hasn't been too much trouble."

"She's head of Gryffindor too," Neville interjected, looking up from his conversation with Luna to contribute. His tone indicated that he was impressed with his friend.

"Brilliant." George murmured with admiration for Hermione's commitment.

"Thanks, and you?" Hermione shrugged off Neville's praise and turned her attention to George.

"Charms,"

"That's great George" – Hermione sounded sincere – "I should have known. McGonagall was really keen on finding someone pretty special to succeed Flitwick. You have some big shoes to follow, er, I mean, you're taking over from a great professor and a really fantastic man." Hermione tilted her head and a look of quiet contemplation passed over her face. Evidently the witch was still troubled by the death of the former Charms' instructor.

"Er, thanks Hermione. As if I wasn't worried enough as is," George bit his lip and attempted a jovial tone, hoping to bring lightness back to their conversation. A detectible feebleness in his voice must have betrayed his nervousness because Hermione crinkled her nose and sucked her breath in past her teeth at his comment.

"Oh George, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it like that…oh, stupid Hermione. Don't be too stressed. Half the students already love you and I'm sure the other half will love you soon enough," Hermione sweetly reassured him, her pale pink lips breaking into an encouraging grin that brightened her heart-shaped face. She reached across the gap between their legs and gently patted his knee. "Everyone's a little mental before their first day of teaching."

"Hermione's right –" Luna volunteered as she and Neville turned to join George and Hermione's chat – "Before my first day I just wandered around the halls in a daze." George knew the girl meant well, but he was fairly certain that was typical behaviour from her student days.

"Yah, I was just out of my mind," Added Neville supportively. "You're going to be fantastic, mate,"

George started to thank his companions for their encouragements, but the thestral was drawing to a halt and, before he could say anything, the others were jumping out of the carriage. They had arrived at the Hog's Head. Hermione led the way to tavern, her step light as her blue canvas shoes kicked up dirt along the pathway. As the group approached the entrance, Neville raced ahead to hold the door open. George noticed that when Luna walked by his friend placed a hand on the back of the petite girl's canary-yellow pinafore to guide her into the establishment.

"Where should we sit?" Hermione asked as she scanned the tavern. The place was close to empty. Only a few cloaked men – typical patrons of the Hog's Head – shared a table towards the back. The place was as dark and uninviting as always, but George felt more comfortable in the pub than he had prior to knowing its owner. George pointed to a sequestered booth in the corner and the colleagues made their way to it, each claiming a spot on the benches. Neville went to the bar to chat with Aberforth and to pick up a round of Butterbeers. George slid in to the booth next to Hermione as Neville returned with four chilled glasses of the frothy, butterscotch-coloured beverage. Luna and Neville immediately leaned back against their bench; their heads were as far away from George and Hermione as was possible, but unnecessarily close to each others, lost in their own conversation. George nudged the brunette on his left, leaning in as he spoke quietly to her:

"So what's going on there?" He motioned behind his drink at their two companions. "Are they an item or what?"

"No" – Hermione laughed and shook her head causing her bangs to sway – "They are not, but they should be."

"Oh yah?"

"Yah, I guess both are afraid to make the first move," Hermione looked a little disappointed, clearly convinced that Neville and Luna should be together. "You know how it goes…" Her voice faded.

"No. I don't,"

"You don't?"

"Nope" – George smiled cheekily – "Girls are always making the first move with me."

"Oh, is that so?" Hermione teased, looking bemused.

"You know it," George replied in mock overconfidence. "I'm just beating girls away with a stick." George cringed when the words left his mouth, aware at how awful and inappropriate they sounded.

"Never talk about beating girls with sticks again, George Weasley," Hermione adopted her bossy tone of old, but it was obvious that she was struggling not to laugh, clearly amused by George's verbal faux pas.

"Err…I apologize for that…I swear, I don't make it a habit of beating anyone with sticks. Other than occasional mishaps on the Quidditch pitch…" George felt embarrassed by his previous poor choice of words. He took a sip of his drink and changed the conversation direction. "So, Mione" – George easily slipped into using his friend's old nickname – "How long has it been anyways? Since we've seen each other last that is?"

"Oh wow, it's been so long. I guess I saw you last at Ginny and Harry's wedding," Hermione replied after some contemplation.

"So five years then."

"Six," Hermione dwelled on her correction, seemingly overwhelmed by how much time had passed since the wedding of her best friends. "I remember because I started working at Hogwarts later that year." She paused, likely struck by a new thought. "I'm sorry George. It-it's been too long…I'm sorry. I should have been a better friend." The golden brown pools of Hermione's eyes were filled with worry, as if suddenly regretful of the fact that she hadn't undergone any effort to ensure George's wellbeing.

"Hermione, no…it's fine." George kindly reassured her. He didn't mention the fact that few had gone out of their way to check on him or care for him, something which he was acutely aware. Except for Ginny, his mother and occasionally his brothers and father, most took the approach of sidestepping the painful topic, leaving him to deal with the loss of his twin largely on his own.

"Ugh, no it's not. I can't remember if I even spoke to you at the wedding." Hermione looked frustrated with herself.

"You seemed like you had stuff to deal with…if I recall you and Ron were not in a good place." George spoke hesitantly, unsure whether it was wise to bring up Hermione's past relationship with his younger brother.

"Oi, thanks for the reminder" – Hermione rolled her eyes – "We weren't exactly speaking. We had just broken up and were both acting like pissy sixth years." She shook her head reproachfully. "I could be so daft then" – She chuckled at the reminiscence – "We're fine now though, not that we talk lots or anything…" She rushed, before letting the end of her comment drift away.

"So, do you have any teaching advice for me? What with these large shoes I have to fill and all," George asked after several moments of silence had elapsed, sensing they both could use a change in topic. Also, he was admittedly nervous about his new role and assumed that a veteran instructor like Hermione could provide helpful and worthwhile advice.

"Hmm…what are your tactics? You know, as a teacher." Hermione readjusted her body so that she was also facing him. She crossed her legs and their knees grazed. Judging by how she brightened at the introduction of the topic, Hermione was clearly genuinely interested in the discussion.

"Well…er…I haven't really done anything to get ready," George faltered. Having received such short notice about his new job he hadn't been given much time to prepare. "Erm…except I did cut my hair…thought I could maybe scare the kids into learning…" He lamely finished with a sly grin and a pointed gesture to the side of his head.

"Ya, I noticed that. I would have forgotten all about your injury if it hadn't been for your new 'do." Hermione looked directly at his gapping ear hole and made a squeamish grimace, pretending to be repulsed by the ragged skin.

"Admiring my wound were you?" George's grin revealed his teeth as he waggled his eyebrows in Hermione's direction.

"No…it's…well, it's just awful. Terribly ugly." Hermione laughed jokingly. Despite her less-than-kind comment, George knew she wasn't being cruel.

"Really Granger? Because I think it looks great…like a beautiful badge of courage." He countered ironically.

"No, it's not. I can't lie…I'm having a pretty hard time looking at you." Hermione replied but patted George's thigh gingerly, indicating that she spoke only in jest. They continued chatting and catching up until George noticed that the four glasses were running low.

"Shall I'll go grab the next round?" He offered to a response of pleased nods and smiles of affirmation from his newly reacquainted friends.

-o-O-o-

"Here…I thought we could up the party quotient of tonight," George laughed, assuming the mischievous tone of his Hogwarts days. He placed a fresh pitcher of foamy Butterbeer on the table and displayed a tray on which four small tumblers filled to the brim with red liquid sat.

"George Weasley, what are you up to now?" Hermione asked, sounding somewhat intrigued.

"Oh nothing much" – George shrugged nonchalantly – "Just a little fun before we all start work."

"What is it?" Hermione seemed even more interested and George thought her eyes looked rather luminous with rebellion.

"Firewhiskey. Drop it in your Butterbeer and then drink it as fast as you can…it's…" He struggled to explain why the drink was popular. He wasn't entirely sure of the point, but knew that such a beverage often preceded enjoyable nights. Hermione, it turned out, didn't require a solid justification.

"Ok," She exclaimed picking up one of the miniature glasses.

"Really?" George was not expecting her participation; he had thought the whiskey might go to waste.

"Yah, why not? Luna? Neville?" Their two companions shook off the offer. "Ok, George, we'll have theirs," Hermione's smile flashed with playful eagerness. It seemed out of character from that of the girl with whom he had grown up.

"Let's do this Mione," George challenged, pouring two containers of the red liquid into his Butterbeer, an action which Hermione repeated with her own drink. The pair locked eyes and began to drink in unison. George soon finished and slammed down his empty glass. Hermione still had half the contents of her mug remaining. "You know you don't need to finish that Mione," George suggested.

He could already sense the effects of the alcohol: his cheeks were warm, his lips throbbing, and head had begun to fog. He was much bigger than Hermione and an experienced drinker; the slender brunette would be hit much harder by the combination of liquor. Hermione didn't remove her lips from her glass. Continuing to drink, she shook her head at his recommendation. Upon finishing her beverage, she banged her glass to the table triumphantly. George tried to remember if Hermione's grin was so effervescent while at Hogwarts.

"Done," She declared, jokingly pumping her fist in the air.

"Impressive Miss Granger," George laughed and slapped palms with his friend in celebration.

"I know," Hermione flipped her wavy hair over her shoulder and shrugged offhandedly, clearly pleased with her ability to master the drink. "Next round on me?"

"Fine with me," George shuffled out of the booth to let Hermione pass. Hermione quickly returned to her friends with another jug of Butterbeer. She filled George's empty glass and topped off Neville and Luna's drinks. George's companions turned the conversation to the upcoming school year, discussing the returning students and the directions in which they were going to take their courses.

As his friends laughed over their drinks, George couldn't help but observe the group. All had changed so much since he had seen them last. Neville had gained a certain commanding positivity to compliment growing a head taller. Luna seemed less flighty than she had as a young student. Also, she had started combing her waist-length hair. George reflected that there was something different about Hermione as well, but he couldn't quite pinpoint what had specifically changed. In her lilac blouse and jeans she looked similar to how she had at Hogwarts, but there was something new about the way she carried herself. Her rosy, sparsely-freckled cheeks glowed more brightly and her still-youthful face had matured a bit having lost its earlier baby fat, but there was also a difference that ran deeper. The serious, bookish manner she had used to present had faded some and she had seemed to have acquired a lighthearted mischievousness to accompany her fierce intelligence.

Of course, George figured, it made sense that his friends wouldn't be the same as they had been in their time at Hogwarts; after all, close to a decade had elapsed. He wondered whether the rest saw change in him as well, other, of course, than the short hair and missing ear. He quickly brushed away such thoughts; that kind of contemplation was unlikely to be constructive. A comment from Hermione pulled him from his introspection.

"You know, I take back what I said earlier, your short hair makes you look quite fit," She complemented. Giggling, she brought a tentative hand to his head to rub his cropped hair. George turned his head and the gaze of his bright blue eyes landed on his companion. He couldn't tell if she was being friendly in the manner of a longstanding acquaintance or if she was flirting with him. He wasn't sure which he would prefer. When Hermione hurriedly withdrew her hand, George concluded she must have intended the former. Evidently three Butterbeers weren't enough to make her feel comfortable with such an intimate touch. He shrugged off the thought and returned to the conversation, finding the opportunity to reconnect with old friends to be surprisingly quite enjoyable.

_Author's Note: Thanks for Reading. I'll try to post soon! Ps. please don't be mad that I gave Hermione bangs, I thought it would suit her. Also, I know it's not terribly realistic that all four ended up back at Hogwarts as teachers, but I wanted that to happen and so I made it so. Once again, any thoughts on where I should take this would be awesome. I'm working on a story line, but not really sure where it's going. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four **

_Author's Note: Not mine. Thanks for Reading! Sorry, this is just a short chapter. _

"Where are you going? And I will go with you. Where are you going, my sweet little witch?" George sang the wizard traditional ditty loudly and off key from the back of the carriage, moving his fist back and forth in rhythm with the lilt of the song. The many pints of Butterbeer he had consumed caused his mind to operate at half-speed and lowered his inhibitions significantly. He and his friends had gone through several pitchers of the beverage before Aberforth told them he wanted to go to bed and they begrudgingly called it a night.

"It was gone with the wind, but it's all coming back to me." Hermione energetically joined his song with one of her own; a tune George didn't recognize and assumed must be of Muggle origin. "And if I touch you like that and you hold me like that and I was once long ago…" Hermione continued her singing before dissolving into a fit of giggles, clearly having forgotten the proper lyrics. Her head was apparently too heavy to hold up, as she dropped it into her palms, cradling it in her hands, still humming quietly.

While at the tavern, Hermione and George had consumed more than their shares of the jugs of frothy ale. Eventually, the four were seated once again in the small carriage, prepared to return to Hogwarts for the night. It was a clear evening, the sky gleaming with stars, and the streets of Hogsmeade deserted. Deep breaths of the cool air helped to dissolve the fog that the alcohol had built up in George's head. As he sat on the wooden bench, his world began to stop spinning and he was soon able to centre his focus on the skeletal animal in front of him. Hermione, it appeared quite plainly, was still feeling the effects of the alcohol quite severely. She seemed to be having difficulties stabilizing herself on the carriage bench. After her fifth Butterbeer, all her subsequent speech had been slurred. Walking out of the bar and to the carriage had been a manageable task for Hermione, but there was definitely an unnatural waver in her gait, which George attributed to her liquor consumption; the brunette had a drink in front of her for most of the evening.

"Is Hermione going to fall out?" Neville asked worriedly, hesitating before urging the thestral into motion, looking at his friend and her precarious perch with concern.

"I got her," George said with exaggerated chivalry, patting Hermione on her back before wrapping his arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer to him to make sure she would remain in the buggy.

"Ok. We're off," Neville flicked the reign, initiating movement from the equine-like beast. George looked down at the young woman who had slumped into his lap.

"I think you might be a little drunk, Mione," George teased fondly.

"I'm a wee bit little tipsy," Hermione replied in a singsong falsetto, an impish grin playing across up her dazed face.

"Right pissed is more like it," George murmured.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Luna asked with concern, oddly engaged for one who normally displayed such a spacey demeanor. She still spoke in her familiar dreamy voice, but there was awareness in her silvery eyes which they used to lack.

"I'm fine," Hermione replied tersely.

"You're not still upset about this morning?" The blonde girl questioned in a caring manner.

"Ugh," Stated Hermione loudly and definitively. She attempted to sit up, but ended up right back in George's lap.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Luna pressed.

"No, I don't want to talk about that stupid, eff-ing git," Hermione retorted with emphasis on her words, snuggling deeper into George's lap. George couldn't help but smile how his friend didn't resort to obscenities, even in her drunken, irritated state.

"Everything ok?" George asked, finding himself intrigued as to what – or more likely whom – Luna and Hermione were referring.

"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione reiterated grumpily. George didn't question further. Instead, he let the inebriated Hermione rest in his lap, hoping that he hadn't upset her with his interjection. The carriage continued to bump along the forest path in silence: Luna lost in her own world, Neville focused on the thestral's route, and George minding Hermione. He stroked her thick hair on the back of her head, impressed that, despite its bushiness, it was quite silky. After some time, Hermione shifted her position, turning so her gaze was facing upwards, towards George.

"Thanks George. Sorry I've been such a drunken prat."

"You haven't,"

"Ok," Hermione grinned sarcastically, self-aware in spite of her intoxication. She rolled back over and lay with her chest against George's thighs, one of her hands rubbing his knee. George stroked her back, hoping that she wasn't too unsettled by the uneven ride back to the castle. Momentarily forgetting his teaching relating insecurities and the gravity of such a drastic life change in such a short time, George felt content as the group made their way back to Hogwarts.

-o-O-o-

Sometime after midnight, the professors arrived back at their school. Neville opened the castles' large, oak doors, making as little noise as could be expected from the heavy doors that guarded the entrance.

"Guys, keep it down. We don't want to wake McGonagall," Neville instructed, sounding anxious. George fought a laugh; it wasn't the first time he had drunkenly snuck into the castle hoping to avoid McGonagall's reproachful eye. It wasn't, however, a task he had expected to, once again, undertake a decade after leaving the school. Based on Neville's wariness, George assumed that the night was a first for his friend; the tall, young man didn't seem like a routine rule-breaker. The four made their way up the grand, marble staircase before reaching the point where their ways broke.

"I should take Hermione to bed," Luna offered, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder. George looked from the petite Luna to the swaying Hermione. Hermione was not particularly tall, but she still dwarfed the tiny blonde.

"I can take her, Luna. It would be easier for me, I'm sure." The ride home had helped George regain some sobriety. He felt obligated to assist Hermione, knowing that he was, at the very least, partially responsible for her intoxication.

"You sure?" Luna asked, clearly hesitant as to whether she should let her friend go with the young man.

"Yah, I got her. It's fine Luna," George replied, hoping to extinguish the younger girl's concerns.

"I'll go with George, he's got me, he can take care of me. Won't you George," Hermione mumbled, her words running together. She was hardly audible. The carriage ride clearly had not alleviated her inebriation in the least.

"Yah, ok, just be careful with her." Luna replied. George was touched by the blonde's worry. At Hogwarts she had always seemed rather oblivious to the some of the subtleties of human interaction, but now she was showing such concern for her friend's wellbeing.

George threw an arm over Hermione's shoulder and pulled her in close to his chest to cease her wavering. After they exchanged goodnights with Neville and Luna, George slowly led her along Hogwarts corridors towards her quarters by the Gryffindor common room. They enjoyed a silence that was only occasionally interrupted by the odd nosey portrait intent on yelling catcalls or making inappropriate hand gestures at the arm-in-arm pair wandering the halls after midnight. Hermione leaned into George as they walked. He didn't mind having to lead the stumbling brunette through the castle. She felt warm against his chest and fit perfectly into the nook where his arm met his torso.

"This is where my room is," Hermione muttered when they reached a point in the corridor that contained no doorway or any indication of housing Hermione's living area. George looked at the seamless wall in front of him.

"Are you sure?" He asked, wondering if Hermione's drunkenness was clouding her knowledge of the castle's confusing layout.

"Yup," Hermione produced her wand and tapped it three times on the midsection of a free standing suit of armor. "Crookshanks," She muttered. The suit of armor vibrated slightly and bristled to life. It reached to the wall and placed a metal palm on the brick. A door swung open, revealing an entranceway. Hermione took George by the hand and pulled him through the opening. Her office space and living room were cozy. She had opted for a colour palate of mostly neutrals. Her suede couches were a shade of sand and the walls were hickory. A plaid rug made up of rusty reds and burnt siennas adorned the floor and matching throw pillows covered the couches. On one of the couches, a plump tabby cat slept. A glass coffee table sat on the rug and multiple potted plants filled the room. The office boasted a large fireplace, as, George soon realized, all the rooms in the castle did. Pictures of Hermione, some of her waving and smiling next to Hogwarts friends and others of people he did not recognize were situated on the mantle. Fitting for the young woman's favourite hobby, many bookshelves crowded the room, all of which were filled with books. A large desk, similar to his, sat beside the bookshelves. The décor was surprisingly warm and homey in comparison to the most of the castle, which relied heavily on brick, metal, and brass in decorating. George liked the room, it reminded him of Hermione.

"Are you alright to get to bed on your own?" George asked, uncertain of the etiquette in helping a drunken female friend to bed.

"I think so," Hermione replied tentatively. When George released her from his grasp, however, she started to stumble.

"Ahh, ok, I got you" – He reestablished his hold on the brunette – "Let's get you to your room,"

"Thanks George," Hermione mumbled. As he led her carefully to her room, she turned her head and called to her cat: "Come on Athena, time for bed." The tabby lifted its head, perking its ears. It hopped off the couch and ambled after the pair. George carefully guided Hermione past an old, upright piano which sat next to the bedroom door and into her bedroom. He led her over to the neatly made bed and she promptly pitched forward onto the plush, pale blue duvet and lay on her stomach with her arms folded beneath her head. The cat jumped onto the bed, curling up next to Hermione's side, purring loudly. George wasn't sure of his next move: walking out seemed rude, but sitting next to her on the bed stuck him as far too forward. Instead, he stood by to the bed, staring at his prone, about-to-pass-out friend. Hermione turned her head to face George and repeated another apology:

"Oh George, I can't believe what a drunk numpty I've been. Thanks for taking care of me," She slurred.

"Anytime, mate." George didn't mind assisting Hermione; she wasn't the first friend he had helped home after a night of revelry and he had certainly had the favour returned to him often enough.

"I've misbehaved myself," Hermione intoned guiltily, with a discouraged look on her face.

"Happens to the best of us, Mione," George smiled fondly at the embarrassed-looking brunette. Compared to what he had seen in the past from his more rambunctious acquaintances, Hermione's behaviour had been positively tame. He had spent many nights out with mates from his men's league, Quidditch team that had quickly degenerated into all sorts of immature debauchery.

"You're the best, George" – She said drowsily – "I'm glad you're here,"

"I'm glad I'm here too, Mione. I'm really happy I got to hang out with you tonight. It was a lot of fun." He wasn't sure if his friend heard the entirety of his comment; she had already drifted out of wakefulness.

George let Hermione sleep, leaving her in her blouse and jeans. Changing her clothes seemed highly inappropriate. He did, nevertheless, slide her canvas flats off her feet and lay them beside the bed, knowing that no one should have to face the prospect of waking up in the previous night's shoes. He quietly wished the slumbering girl goodnight and trekked across the castle, back to his room. As he entered his living quarters, he remembered that he hadn't bothered to get any of his things set up. Neville had invited him out before he had even ventured into his bedroom, let alone get his bed ready. He groaned when he saw only a bare mattress atop a bed spring in his room. Deciding to worry about his sleeping arrangements the following day, George stripped off his clothes and, clad only in his hunter green boxer shorts, went to his office where he sunk into the leather, maroon couch. It wasn't an ideal bed, but the previous day's flight, the late night, the drinks, and the overwhelming nature of his big life change had rendered him exhausted. He was soon fast asleep.

_Author's note: Thanks for reading! It's much appreciated! And thanks to everyone who's left reviews. They make the writing so much more enjoyable! _


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five **

_Author's note: Thanks to all who are reading! Not mine…JK's _

George awoke to a flash of bright green light filling his office. He struggled to sit up, having sunk rather low into the remarkably deep cushions of the couch.

"Erm, what is happening?" He mumbled drowsily.

"Hey George," Hermione answered, surprisingly cheerily, stepping out of the grate and into his room. She was holding a pair of identical, large, periwinkle mugs. George was suddenly self-aware of having her find him in only his flimsy shorts, but Hermione didn't appear perturbed.

"Peace offering?" She asked, holding out one of the wide-mouthed mugs of steeping tea. "I'm so sorry you had to take care of messy old me last night."

"Not a problem, Mione" – He replied – "I, ah, should probably put some clothes on first,"

"Yah, you should do that," Hermione grinned over her tea, biting her bottom lip. George exited to his bedroom and pulled stacks of clothing out of his trunk. He slipped on the first pair of clean jeans he could find and paired them with a bright blue, Weasley jumper.

"What time is it?" He asked, returning from his bedroom while pulling the knit jumper over his head. "You seem rather chipper for what I would have expected based on last night," – He quipped in jest – "Especially for considering how early it must be."

"Well, it's quarter past eleven, George. Hardly the break of dawn. And, besides, I'm known for my rallying abilities." Hermione smiled with some degree of pride. She had managed to regroup significantly from the previous night. Standing in front of George, she looked casual and effortless, but also put-together and ready for the day. Her hair had been pulled to the side in an intentionally messy plait. The tendrils which escaped the braid only served to frame her face becomingly rather than make her look disheveled. She looked comfortable in her ivory white, finely knit, scooped neck sweater and dark blue jeans. Both the sweater and the jeans were rather snug; a detail not lost on George. He also noticed that she wore the same blue canvas shoes that he had gently slipped off her feet much earlier that morning.

"It's really that late?" George was legitimately shocked; he hadn't slept-in until the midmorning since weekends at Hogwarts. Typically, he was up early on clockwork, generally unable to fall back asleep even if he wanted. He accepted the black tea Hermione had prepared for him and reclaimed his spot on the couch, motioning for Hermione to join him. She sat next to him, curling her feet under her and leaning against the back of the sofa.

"You ready for the kids coming tonight?" She asked, her golden brown eyes scrutinizing his face.

"Good Godric, no! Not at all," George laughed ruefully, shaking his head in shame at his total unpreparedness. "I've literally done nothing to get ready for this job….terrible really."

"Have you prepared your curricula?" The young woman asked, looking slightly wary.

"My what?"

"Your lesson plan George," Hermione informed him, the concern in her voice undeniable.

"Er…nope."

"Well, you have all day. We'll get you ready," Hermione gulped resolutely, but replied spiritedly, seeming almost excited at the prospect of the challenge. "You're actually in luck. I brought all my old Charms texts. I had been keeping them but figured you needed them more than I do." Hermione began unloading heavy-looking bound books out of her messenger bag. Had George not been a wizard he would have been befuddled as to how Hermione had managed to fit so many texts into her small satchel.

"Blimey, Hermione. This is absolutely brilliant," George whistled while leafing through one of the books. Hermione had, at one point, gone through the pages and underlined important passages and made notes in the margins. It was no wonder she had been the top of her class. "Thank you so much."

"No problem George." – Hermione replied – "What classes do you have tomorrow?"

"Err…one moment," George wandered to the desk and riffled through a stack of parchment McGonagall had left for him. "Let's see…tomorrow. In the morning I have first year classes. Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw and then Slytherin/Gryffindor." Hermione groaned at the last combination.

"Ok, well you know Slytherin and Gryffindor together is never fun, so just keep them busy. But the first day of first year is easy. Just introduce yourself and show them some simple charms that you'll be teaching throughout the year. And in the afternoon?" Hermione's eyes flashed excitedly. For not the first time, George assumed that the brunette must really love her teaching job, especially considering the way she livened at the task of helping him with his, something he figured would not be enjoyable.

"Er, double block of fourth years, Ravenclaw with Slytherin." George stated, reading off the parchment.

"Brilliant. Just get them started on summoning spells. It's not too difficult and the students will like it because they can make objects fly around the room. You should probably get some feathers." Hermione smiled at the red-head. "Done. You're all set for tomorrow."

"Well, that was easy" – George laughed – "I already feel like a better teacher. Thanks Mione."

"Mind you, it's not all going to be this easy." Hermione centred her gaze on George's eyes. "I was thinking about this last night after you said you didn't feel prepared. It would probably be a good idea to spend the day in Hogsmeade and get you ready. There's a new Flourish & Blotts outlet there and, besides, I need some new books myself."

"Really Hermione? That's your idea of how to spend our last day off before kids get here? Shopping for books?" George adopted a tone dripping in incredulous disbelief. He patted his friend tenderly on the knee to show he didn't mean harm; Hermione's offer to help was actually very welcomed and necessary. "I suppose if we have to…"

"Honestly George. You really need to get prepared. Does this office look anything like a professor's office should?" She glanced around the bare room, which contained no traces one would expect from an academic. "If you want your students to respect you, you probably should get this up to standard."

"It's not like anyone visits professors' offices, Mione,"

"That's not true. Professors are a very valuable resource. They can help a lot with understanding course material and going over any spells you might be learning on your own…" Hermione stopped her lecture at the sight of Geroge's wide smile, over-exaggerated eye rolls, and stifling of feigned yawns. "Very funny, Weasley. Finish your tea. We can stop for breakfast in Hogsmeade."

-o-O-o-

Hermione and George wandered through Flourish & Blotts. As they strolled down the shelved halls, George's arms became increasingly encumbered with the books Hermione was picking out for him.

"Here you go, _Quintessence: A Quest,_" Hermione placed a large, leather bound book on the stack George was carrying. "You'll need this for your NEWT students." She plucked another book from a top shelf, standing on her tip toes to do so, "And _Achievements in Charming. _That could be a valuable resource for your OWL class." She placed the text on top of the others. George had to rest his chin on the top book to steady the load. The zealousness with which his friend approached the book store entertained George. Hermione would practically skip through the store, lovingly running her fingers along the bindings of the books, with a look of joy on her face. She seemed to instinctively know what books to pick and where the relevant ones were located.

"Er…Hermione. Am I going to have to read all of these," George asked with a groan as they made their way down past another shelf, concerned about his friend's answer.

"Well, you probably should. I mean, you likely know everything in these books, what with the work you do for your store. You probably know more than these books actually" – Hermione chucked, sounding impressed – "But still, it's helpful to review everything for teaching purposes. Just knowing something doesn't mean you can teach it."

"Great."

"I'm sorry George. I'm sure you'll be fine. I just have a tendency to be over prepared." She grinned with self-awareness, selecting yet another book.

"Ugh, well I'm sure they can't hurt to have. They'll fill up my book cases and at least I'll look like a professor." George was about to continue with another idea when something distracted him: a book on one of the shelves had caught his eye. "Oi, what's this?" He contemplated aloud, readjusting the texts in his arms until one hand was barely free. Careful not to disturb the stack he was carrying, George gingerly plucked a paperback book off a hip-height shelf.

"_The History of House Elves and the Important Lessons the Wizard Community must learn from the_ _Past_." George read the title out loud, grinning widely. "By Hermione J. Granger." He flipped the book over. On the back, an image of a tiny Hermione gazed shyly up at him. The image Hermione was dressed smartly in a purple dress with a brown blazer. Her hair was pulled into a professional bun. The picture was from before she had cut her bangs.

"Oh George, put that back," Hermione mumbled self-consciously. "It's so silly."

"No it's not! Mione, this is brilliant. I had no idea you wrote a book." George exclaimed impressed with his friend's commitment to the issue she had cared about so much at school.

"It's not that big of a deal," Hermione said quietly, trying to deflect the commotion George was making. George, however, could see that a grin was threatening at the corners of her mouth

"Yes it is! Hogwarts own celebrity author. You're exactly like a significantly prettier Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Oh George…no I'm not." Hermione seemed embarrassed by her friend's attention. George wasn't sure what she was objecting to: being called pretty or being compared to the vacuous, former Defence against the Dark Arts instructor. "It's not that big of a deal" – She continued – "I cared about the subject so I researched it for my Masters degree and then published some articles on the matter and then compiled those into a book."

"Are you joking? This is obviously a very big deal. It's an amazing accomplishment, Mione. I'm definitely buying this." George was thrilled for his companion. Despite her stoic demeanor, it was obvious that Hermione was excited that she had been able to publish her work on house elves and to share her opinions on the matter with a wider audience. He smiled cheekily with his next comment: "You know, I might be able to loan this to a student, for reference purposes, of course. Who knows? Maybe I'll end up mentoring the next Hermione Granger." He managed to place Hermione's book on top of his others without upsetting the load.

"Don't be daft George," Hermione muttered. "Well….I suppose we've picked out enough reading material for you."

"More like you've picked out enough reading material for me." George chided but Hermione purposely ignored his remark. The pair lined up at the checkout and paid for their purchases. George furrowed his brows at his bill; the amount was more than three times as much as he had ever paid for books before. Leaving Flourish & Blotts, George suggested that they stop for tea at a shop across the street from Zonko's. They found a table near the front and Hermione ordered coffee while George had tea.

"So Hermione, are you going to sign my book for me?" George asked cheerfully, pushing the paperback across their table to his friend.

"I hardly think that's necessary."

"It's highly necessary."

"Really, George?"

"It would be brilliant. Think of it as the start of my impressive collection of books." He teased.

"Fine" – Hermione smiled good-naturedly, clearly finding George's proposition absurd but also amusing – "Give me that." She dug through her satchel, eventually producing a feather quill. "I need a second to think of something." Opening the book in front of her, she looked deep in thought, her quill poised next to her mouth. Finally, she quickly notated something on the first page and passed the book back to George.

"George" – She had written – "I expect a ten inch essay written on the subject on my desk by Friday, Sincerely, Hermione." The inscription was followed by flourish of delicate loops: her signature.

"Really, you want ten inches on Friday? That's rather naughty of you, Miss Granger." George chuckled at the double entendre.

"That was….highly inappropriate, Weasley. You're a funny bloke, I assume better from you." The brunette laughed, clucking her tongue and shaking her head disapprovingly. The pair made easygoing conversation as they finished their beverages. George felt his sprits brighten significantly: the company helped, the day was warm, and his hangover had completely disappeared. Finally, Hermione looked at her watch. "Oh wow, it's time we get back to the castle. Students will be arriving in only a couple hours."

-o-O-o-

George entered the Great Hall excited to face his future classes. After his shopping trip with Hermione he had spent the rest of the afternoon in his room, finally putting his things in order. It was a relief for him to actually have his bed made and his clothes put away. With some pride, he stacked his new books into his office bookcases, feeling far more professorial once the shelves were filled. When evening approached, George realized it was time to prepare for the welcoming feast. He opted for a professional pair of dark slacks and a muted blue, dress shirt. Airing on the side of formality, he secured a black tie around his neck, intentionally avoiding any of the Hogwarts' houses' colour combinations. To finish off his look, he hung his black robes with the Hogwarts crest over his shoulders. He didn't know if he was ready to be an instructor, but he certainly looked the part.

Scanning the teachers' table at the head of the Hall, George noticed Neville and Luna, seated close together, engaged in conversation, oblivious to the rest of the room. Terence, the Transfiguration instructor he had met the previous day, was talking to an incredibly striking woman with pin-straight, dark brown hair, which hung almost in front of her fine-featured face. Professor Slughorn, and Hagrid were laughing loudly in the back corner of the teachers' tables; both had very red faces and were drinking Butterbeer from comically large mugs. Finally, George spotted an empty spot next to Hermione. He nimbly sat down beside her.

"Hey, Mione," He interrupted her conversation with a middle-aged, plump witch with a mop of tight blonde curls.

"Oh, hi George" – Hermione turned to greet him – "Have you met Cassandra Aisling? Professor of Divination. Head of Hufflepuff," She turned to the other witch and ran through George's credits: "George Weasley. Our new Charms instructor. We were friends when I was at Hogwarts." George reached across Hermione to grasp her companion's soft, clammy hand in a quick shake. It intrigued him to see Hermione talking in such a friendly manner with the Divination instructor; he knew she never had much respect for the area of study.

"You look lovely, Hermione," George complimented. She did. Under her Hogwarts cloak she wore the same simple, long-sleeved, eggplant dress that she had worn in the picture on her book. She had obviously worked on her hair as it hung softly and straightly down to her shoulders, only curling slightly at the ends. It appeared that she had even put on some makeup, as her brown eyes looked larger and more vibrant than they had that morning.

"Thanks George. You look quite handsome yourself,"

George was about to respond but was interrupted by a standing McGonagall who had projected her voice to the edges of the Great Hall.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. First years, it's a pleasure to have you join us for the first time." McGonagall's amplified voice spoke to the students and teachers gathered in the Hall. George tuned out McGonagall's welcome speech and, instead, surveyed the grand castle room. The Hall had changed since he had been a student. The most noticeable difference was that the individual house colours were gone; the wall where they used to hang was now covered by a massive banner boasting only the Hogwarts crest. However, the house divisions still existed; George noted that the houses still sat at their old tables. He didn't recognize any individual students, but could tell the houses they were all in based on the emblems on the student's cloaks.

"We have some new additions to the staff this year," McGonagall announced. George jolted out of his contemplation, realizing that he should probably pay attention as McGonagall was likely to introduce him. Sure enough, McGonagall continued to the students: "Hogwarts will be joined this year by a new Charms instructor: Mr. George Weasley."

George stood and bowed to the Great Hall, accompanying his low dip with a showy hand gesture for effect. All the students, except for those in Gryffindor, applauded politely. The Gryffindor table had erupted into loud, rambunctious claps and some hoots and hollers. Clearly, George's reputation had preceded him. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing; having his students see him as the noted prankster might not increase classroom learning.

"Also, please welcome" – McGonagall addresses the room after the applause had subsided – "Our new Transfiguration professor: Fiona Doctel."

George turned to notice the beautiful witch Terence had been talking to stand and curtsey with a wave. She appeared to be in her early thirties. She was tall, probably close to George in height, although that may have been attributed to her lofty heels. Her skin was a deep olive tone and her dark red dress matched the colour of her pursed, rosebud lips. Unlike the rest of the professors, she wasn't clad in Hogwarts' formal robes. His gaze on the alluring woman, George barely heard Hermione turn to Cassandra with a question:

"Hmm…I didn't know McClearly had left. Were you aware?" Hermione asked with a whisper.

"Oh yah, I heard she wanted more time with her family," The blonde witch replied with a pleasant smile on her rosy face. The two witches turned silent once McGonagall resumed her speech.

"And the Forbidden Forest is" – McGonagall was saying – "As its name should easily indicate, off-limits for students. Should you not be mindful of the rules, there are those on the faculty" – George swore he saw McGonagall glance quickly at Hermione. There may have even been a gleam of a twinkle in the headmistress' eye – "Who could tell you that the forest is best avoided."

George playfully nudged Hermione, reproachfully shaking his head in exaggerated disapproval. He was certain that she was stifling giggles. George turned his attention back to the completion of McGonagall's address:

"And remember, Hogwarts is a place where friendships are forged and magic is mastered. We are not here to create divisions, produce prejudices, or undermine the progress made in the wizard world. Enjoy your meals, but be mindful of why you are here and why Hogwarts exists."

A feast of grand proportions appeared along the four student tables and the teachers table. George eagerly grabbed for the food, piling his plate with steak, chicken, potatoes, pies, and a few vegetables. Gleefully, he started attacking the delicious items before him, occasionally nodding absentmindedly as Hermione informed him how all of Hogwarts' kitchen elves were receiving fair pay and an improved work environment for their tasks. After the feast, George said goodbye to the rest of the faculty and returned to his quarters, feeling full and content, truly excited about the prospect of the year.

_Author's Note: Thanks again for reading! _


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_Author's Note: Not mine. Thanks for reading! Bit of a filler chapter, but I kind of like writing filler. _

George woke early for the first day of classes, feeling anxious about being properly prepared for his students. He decided to go with a familiar pale blue collared shirt, knowing that the colour complimented his orange hair and highlighted his blue eyes. Pairing the top with black slacks and a charcoal-grey sweater vest, he felt content that the combination was professorial. A quick survey of his outfit in the flat's full-length mirror told him that he looked acceptable and, maybe even, a little bit handsome in a casually professional way. George checked his watch, relieved that he was still early for breakfast, and left his living quarters to meet everyone in the Great Hall.

As he was about to enter the Great Hall, he heard a voice calling behind him.

"George. Wait up," He turned and saw Hermione waving at him from a ways down the corridor. She was with the new Transfiguration instructor, Fiona Doctel.

"Hey, Mione," George responded, waiting for his friend to catch up.

"Hey, have you met Fiona yet," Hermione asked. George indicated with a nod that he had not and offered his hand to his new colleague. She tenderly accepted his hand in her slender one and shook it quickly.

"Lovely," Fiona replied in a curt voice with a tiny hint of an accent that George was unable to place. Her voice, however, was hardly the most noteworthy aspect about Fiona. George couldn't help but notice the way her lithe, yet curvaceous, form was accentuated stunningly in a cream-coloured, snug pencil skirt and a burgundy draped top. With her teetering chocolate brown pumps, dark makeup, and long, flowing hair, Fiona looked out of place for the school environment. Hermione, for her part, was wearing a casual, full black skirt. Tucked into the high-waist skirt was a simple indigo blouse, with its sleeves folded past her elbows. She had paired practical ballet flats with her outfit. Hermione's hair was pulled back into a neat knot, with only a few loose curls joining her bangs to frame her face. George chuckled when he noticed that she had stuck a large, feather quill into her bun. As she usually did, Hermione carried her brown leather satchel over her shoulder.

"Care to join us for breakfast, George," Hermione asked sweetly.

"Love to," George smiled at his friend.

-o-O-o-

Breakfast was a quick affair. All three professors were keen to get to their classrooms to organize them for their morning classes. George and Hermione chatted casually in between bites of their breakfasts. Fiona ate her toast and eggs quietly beside them, seemingly uninterested in joining her colleagues in conversation. Hermione helped George run through the list of spells that he was planning on showing his students in class, offering him useful tips and suggestions.

"Well, I'm off to get my classroom ready," George stated, standing up from the table after he had finished his meal.

"Good luck, George. You'll do great," Hermione spoke earnestly.

"Thanks Mione. Good luck to you too…obviously you don't need it," He said with a knowing grin. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Fiona," George's voice cracked conspicuously as he turned to address the other professor. Fiona glanced up from her breakfast and raised her hand slightly in a brief wave.

-o-O-o-

George made his way to the castle's third floor where his Charms classroom was located. As he walked, he avoided colliding with the scampering students making their way to the Hall, late for breakfast. When he arrived at the classroom, George insured that all the tables and chairs were set up properly. He rolled a couple large blackboards to the front of the room and made sure there was usable chalk with the boards. After nervously jotting down the names of some of the spells his first years would be learning throughout the year, George lounged behind the large, wooden instructor's desk. He placed his wand in front of him and arranged pieces of parchment to look organized. Surveying his class room and deeming it appropriate, George rolled his sleeves to his elbows and sat back in his chair, trying to look calm and casual as he waited for his students to arrive.

Shortly, students began to drift into the classroom. Many arrived late as they were still unacquainted with Hogwarts' complicated layout.

"Hello, I'm Professor Weasley" – George liked the way the title sounded rolling off his tongue – "Welcome to first year Charms class." He looked out over the intimidated and frightened faces of the first year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and began to feel much more confident; his students' anxiety was much greater that his.

-o-O-o-

The morning first year classes flew by with ease. George followed Hermione's advice and demonstrated simple spells to his students. While many of them watched with looks of amazement on their faces, George ran through some of the more basic spells: vanishing charms, summoning charms, and colour change charms. Out of a desire to impress his class, he decided to show off one of his favourite pieces of magic from his store. The students laughed with glee when a brave volunteer tested one of George's Canary Custards, clapping joyously when the student disappeared and a confused-looking, squawking yellow bird stood in his place. George knew such magic wasn't exactly on the first year curriculum, but figured that it was important to engage his class from the start.

"It was lovely to meet you all. Remember, the real work starts next week." George called to the Slytherin and Gryffindor first years as they prepared to leave the spacious, stone-walled classroom after he had demonstrated making a pineapple dance across his desk: the standard first year Charms exam. The students yelled out goodbyes, thanks, and other miscellaneous comments.

"Thanks Mr. Weasley."

"Take care Professor Weasley,"

"Have a good day,"

"Great lecture, Professor,"

"Say, Mr. W, can I have one of those canary treats?"

After the last of the students departed, George breathed with relief; he had made it through his first morning. George glanced at the large, ornate, brass clock on the wall behind him; he had several hours until the fourth years would arrive for class. Knowing he should stay and prepare for the upcoming lecture, George decided to shirk responsibility and hope that his good luck from earlier would carryover until the afternoon. A quick glance out of the classroom's narrow slit of a window told George that it was a lovely day, something of which he thought he should take advantage.

Locking his class room behind him, George left to wander outside the castle, hoping to enjoy the grounds. The day was warm; George soon removed his sweater vest and undid the top buttons of his shirt, feeling some relief from the muggy heat. Most of Hogwarts' students, clearly, had the same idea as George. The grounds were crowded with young witches and wizards excitedly reuniting with their friends and taking advantage of their amble relaxation time before school work started in earnest. Occasionally, groups of his first year students would call out hellos to him. George waved greetings to his young students, unsure as to the proper protocol of interacting with students out of the classroom. He wanted to be seen as an intelligent figure deserving of respect, but he also hoped that his students would view him as easygoing, approachable, and maybe even, if he was being completely honest with himself, just a little bit cool.

George hadn't set out on his walk with any particular, predetermined location in mind, but he found himself drifting towards the Herbology greenhouses. Peering into the smallest of Hogwarts' greenhouses, he called out to the solitary figure hunched over one of the long planting tables:

"Hey Nev, how's it going?"

"Huh, oh, er, hi George," Neville looked up from the various sizes of potted plants scattered in front of him. Neville was wearing standard Herbology goggles and heavy-looking dragon skin gloves which extended past his elbows. George had never seen the young man look as confident and relaxed as he did in the greenhouse. Neville was digging bulbs, roughly the size and shape of dragon's eggs, out of ceramic pots and then replacing them in larger pots, which he would then fill with fresh dirt. George couldn't help but admire the care and concentration Neville paid the softly glowing plants. During their school years, the shy Gryffindor had always been teased for being slow and clumsy with his spells. Now, the ease with which he handled the plans was far from the bumbling Neville of old.

"What are you doing here?" Neville asked with a quizzical expression on his still slightly plump face.

"I just thought I'd swing by and see how you're doing,"

"Really?" Neville asked in disbelief, carefully placing one of the dark pink bulbs into a red clay pot. "Well, nice to see you mate,"

"Likewise," George responded while he wandered through the greenhouse to join Neville beside the table. "What you got going on here?" George looked over Neville's workbench with interest.

"I'm replanting the Puffapod seedpods," Neville answered. He continued in an excited and informative tone: "I figured I'd get it done today. They can only be removed from their pots in sunny weather, so I thought I'd take advantage." It was clear from the way he spoke and the loving way he handled the root that the young man really enjoyed his work.

"These don't look to dangerous, Nev. What's with the huge gloves?" George asked, picking up one of the bulbs in both hands. One closer inspection, the bulbs housed a cluster of dark pink, bordering on red, seeds which glowed dimly, causing the entire plant to have a gentle radiance.

"Er, be careful with that mate." Neville cautioned.

"Sure, no problem," George carefully placed the bulb back on the long, smooth, wood table. Neville got up from his stool and removed his long gloves.

"I think I'm actually going to take a break with this. Want to have lunch with me?" Neville offered bashfully. He rubbed his eyes with his fists, then ran a hand through his short dark hair and glanced at George expectantly.

"Yah, mate. That would be brilliant." George answered brightly.

-o-O-o-

The two men left the greenhouse, planning on finding an empty spot by the lake where they could eat their lunches in peace, away from the crowds of students. After they had walked for several minutes, Neville stopped them, pointing to two figures sitting on a large blanket on the grass.

"Luna! Hermione!" Neville called, picking up his pace to join their two colleagues by the lake. George hurried after him.

"Hey you two," George greeted the young women, sitting down on a corner of their blanket. Neville gingerly perched on the edge of the blanket, on a spot, George noted, close to Luna.

"Say, why don't you two join us," Hermione said broadly after George and Neville had already sat down.

"Don't mind if we do," George joked back at her. He eyed her large picnic basket and the rich assortment of foods she was pulling out of it, thinking remorsefully of the few pieces of toast he had snagged at breakfast and had intended for his lunch: "Oi, what do you have there, Mione?"

"Just a lunch I packed for me and Luna," She smiled. "Just for me and Luna." Her grin grew wider, clearly sensing his interest.

"Hermione, didn't the kitchen elves put that together for you?" Luna asked airily. Hermione shook her head at her friend and addressed her in a stage whisper:

"George doesn't need to know that."

"Taking advantage of the kitchen elves, are we Mione?" He chided, clucking his teeth with his tongue. "That hardly seems right. Hardly seems like ethical behavior towards nonhuman magical creatures…"

"George Weasley, I'll have you know I'm on very good terms with all the kitchen elves. I saw that they were rewarded handsomely for their favour."

"Well, I could see that you would be rewarded handsomely for sharing," George flashed Hermione an innocently helpless look and pouted his bottom lip.

"Awe George, none of that" Hermione teased. "You're lucky I'm feeling generous today." She passed him a roast beef sandwich. "Neville, do you want anything?" Responding Neville's eager nod, she handed him a similar looking sandwich.

George enjoyed the delicious roast beef sandwich Hermione had procured and let his mind wander as his companions started talking about names he didn't recognize, presumably students he would be meeting over the course of the week. He smiled and lounged back on his palms, stretching out his long legs to take up more than his share of room on the blanket. He glanced at his friends. Next to him on the blanket, Hermione was lying on her stomach, propped up on her forearms. Luna sat cat-like beside her, while Neville perched in the corner, seemingly concerned about crowding the space.

"Oi," Hermione's sudden exclamation of surprise broke his daze. George turned to look at the girl next to him, catching a laugh at the sight of her trying to fend off a tiny, furry, black animal with her forearms. The creature, which vaguely resembled the expected offspring of a ferret and a mole, was standing on its hind legs, greedily tugging at the delicate, silver pendant hanging around Hermione's neck. "Luna! What did you bring with you?" Hermione cried through her chuckles at the animal's harmless antics.

"Kyle, stop that." Luna's command didn't sound very urgent when spoken in her dreamy voice. The small blonde grabbed the tiny creature by the scruff of its back, releasing its hold on Hermione's necklace. "Come here, boy," Luna spoke airily, pulling the creature into her lap. Cupping its head in her hand she petted it until it was cuddled into a tiny ball, purring loudly.

"Luna, is that a niffler? Did you bring a niffler to lunch?" Hermione inquired. Luna nodded, continuing to pet the contented animal.

"I can't leave him alone, Mione. He's the runt of the newest litter."

"You named a niffler Kyle?" George asked incredulously. Luna, apparently, was just as amusing as she had been during her Hogwarts years.

"It suits him." Luna ruffled the fur on the creature's neck, "Doesn't it, little buddy…" She cooed sweetly at her pet. "You are just the sweetest."

"Luna, do you have a niffler as a pet?" Hermione questioned.

"They make great pets," Luna responded. "They're very affectionate. As long as you don't mind your jewelry going missing…"

"No different than having a cat, Mione," George teased.

"Yah…it is…Athena is just…so…pretty." Hermione answered lamely.

"Oi, so you only like something if it's good looking, Mione?" George chuckled.

"I don't know about that. I'm friends with you, aren't I?" Hermione looked up at George with playful antagonism in her eyes.

"Ouch…low blow, Mione." George grabbed at his shirt, miming a pain in his heart. "That was harsh." He smiled, continuing in a mock boastful tone: "And an egregious lie…as I'm sure we can all agree…." He wagged his eye brows suggestively at his friend. Hermione propped herself on one arm and reached with her other to pretend to push George over.

"Get over yourself, Weasley." She laughed as George purposely flopped onto the grass beside the blanket.

The four finished their daytime meal, exchanging easygoing banter and teasing Luna as she fed Kyle pieces of her own lunch. Sooner than George would have liked, they begrudgingly admitted that it was time to return to their respective classrooms in order to prepare for upcoming classes. George and Hermione said farewells to Luna and Neville and packed up the leftover food and the blanket as their friends left to make their ways to their classrooms on Hogwarts' grounds.

"I can carry that if you want." Hermione offered as George tossed the folded blanket over this shoulder and picked up the basket.

"Oi, what kind of gentleman would my students think I am if they saw me making you carry all this stuff?"

"A poor one, I suppose."

"Exactly," George smiled.

The pair wandered across the grass. Hermione pointed out various students to George as they walked, informing him of the ones that may be disruptions in class.

"I know how to handle a troublemaker, Mione." George argued after Hermione had singled out a couple of forth years, suggesting that he should be aware of them.

"Just because you were a troublemaker doesn't mean students will go easy on you George. If you recall, you weren't the only Hogwarts student who managed to get into trouble." She shrugged flippantly, with a slightly guilty smile, and George knew she was referring to herself. "Trust me, there are still going to be students who are keen on being little gits in class." Hermione laughed at her comment and George wondered if the so-called 'little git' students were the ones she garnered more amusement from than the committed, eager ones who were closer in kind to herself as a student.

"Well, have a good class," Hermione wished him well once they reached the castle stairs leading to the third floor. George echoed the sentiment while he handed Hermione her blanket and basket. He waved her good luck before scrambling up the steps.

-o-O-o-

Despite Hermione's forewarning, George found himself being far more excited for his afternoon class than he had been for the morning class. Some of his beginner's nerves had worn off and he felt eager to meet his new student. Slowly, the Ravenclaw and Slytherin fourth years began to filter into the room, most talking excitedly with each other. A few cast intrigued glances at George while they took their seats. Once the students were all settled, George stood at the front of the class to introduce himself and start the lecture.

"Hi class. I'm the new Charms instructor, Professor Weasley." George stated. Standing in front of his students, he wished that he had opted for a tie or, at very least, put his sweater vest on again. His collared shirt, which still had the top few buttons undone and the sleeves carelessly rolled up, didn't feel professional enough. Fortunately, spending lunch sitting on the ground hadn't caused his clothes to look too rumbled.

"Take out your wands," George instructed, brandishing his own willow wand. George relaxed inwardly when all the students did as they were told. He noticed a few of the boys in the front had the same mischievous look in their eyes that he used to wear. He wondered momentarily why the troublemaking-looking youngsters were seated so close to the front and leaning forward so eagerly. During his school years, his typical class room location would be a spot at the back, where he would lounge back in his chair, only partially listening to the instructor. Then again, he had never been taught by one of Hogwarts' most notorious pranksters and the owner of the most popular joke shop in the wizard community.

"Er, we're going to be starting with the summoning spell today." George told his class in the most confident tone he could muster. "It's one we're going to be working on throughout the year." George picked up a box of feathers that he had obtained from the owlry and emptied it on the table in front of him. "Come grab a feather and return to your seats."

George led his class through the proper pronunciation of "accio" and the necessary wrist flick for making the spell work. Soon all of his students were focused on the task. George surveyed the rows of youngsters diligently trying to summon their feathers from their spots on the tables. Some of the students were able to make their feathers jolt forward slightly, but most were unable to get the feathers to budge. George circulated the room, lending help as need be and congratulating the ones who were able to make their feathers respond. He noted one student, a tall boy with a shock of dark hair that fell over his forehead and into his eyes, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed in front of him, his wand on the table.

"Er, ah" – George strolled over to the boy, leafing through his parchments of class lists to figure out the student's name – "Hey, ah, Dylan, why aren't you practicing the spell? Is there anything I could help you with?"

"I'm good, Prof W. I already have this spell down," The boy drawled lazily. George remembered why he recognized the youngster; he was one of the students Hermione had pointed out and one which she suggested that he should be mindful.

"Let's have a look Dylan," George tried not to sound bossy and gestured to the boy to demonstrate the spell.

"Accio," Dylan muttered, nonchalantly but proficiently flourishing his wand. Without having to sit up in his chair, the boy caught the feather as it flew towards him. The students – all of whom had turned their attention away from their own feathers and towards George and the boy – gasped, coughed, or muttered appreciatively.

"That's excellent Dylan," George said encouragingly. "Oh shit," He thought, concerned about how to run the class when one of the students already had a handle on the material.

"Ok class" – George addressed everyone, knowing that everyone would be listening regardless – "The summoning spell is an important one and sometimes you need to be able to summon something from far away." He picked up Dylan's feather and moved a table running parallel. "Once you've mastered summoning your feather from in front of you, try summoning it from further away….Dylan?" – George faced the boy who was still lounged in his chair – "Your next goal is summoning the feather from this further distance." Dylan nodded:

"Accio," He said louder than before, recreating the same wand pattern. The feather didn't even shiver.

"Ok, so keep working on that, Dylan. You'll get it in no time." George spoke encouragingly, but was somewhat pleased that the boy's spell hadn't yet worked; he hadn't thought ahead what he would do if Dylan already had the summoning spell completely mastered. George looked up at the ornate clock and saw that class was ending in three minutes:

"Ok gang, start packing up your stuff. I'll see you next week." He had completed his first day as a teacher.

_Author's Note: Thanks again for reading! _


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven **

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Not mine – JK's! _

George's first week passed with little trouble. The years of instructing his employees on how to create and maintain the Weasley Wizard Wheezes products had given him a certain aptitude for teaching. He woke up on the Friday of his first week, excited to meet his final group of students and looking forward to the prospect of the weekend. Walking from his bedroom to his office, he was surprised to see Ginny's tiny, grey owl, Arnold, perched uneasily on the window's ledge. Arnold had never really grown accustomed to the tasks of being a messenger owl, so George wasn't surprised that the miniature bird hadn't tried to get his attention through pecking on the window's pane.

"Come here, boy," He chuckled aloud, opening his window to give access to the little owl. Arnold hopped confusedly into his office. "Give me that," George grabbed the small section of folded parchment from the owl's beak and gently ruffling the bird's head-feathers at the same time. Arnold tilted his head and gazed happily at George. George opened up the letter in his hands.

"Hi George," – the letter read in his little sister's neat, loopy printing – "How's Hogwarts treating you? Are you the best teacher ever? I hope everything is well. I miss you. Come visit me soon. I love you so much, Ginny."

"Well, that was brief," George thought, smiling at his little sister's ever-present straightforwardness. Even so, the girl's caring and declaration of sisterly love caused his throat to constrict slightly. He tried not to dwell too much on the thought; he didn't want to be choked up before class. Striding over to his desk, he found a clean scrap of parchment and a fresh quill and scribbled down a quick reply to his sister.

"Gin, Hogwarts is swell. It's hardly changed at all. I'm a pretty amazing teacher. I miss you too. How are you? How's the family? How's Harry? You could always come visit me. Yours always, George." He glanced at his letter, thinking it sufficient if not particularly eloquent. Before handing it to Ginny's bird, he quickly added a note at the end. "P.s. How come you didn't tell me Hermione is here?"

"Ok, go back to Ginny, buddy," George instructed the owl, placing the letter between its beak and patting the animal's head a couple last times. Arnold only leaned his head further to the side, its beady eyes filled with confusion. "Come on boy, back to Ginny," George said, picking up the bird in both hands. He tossed Arnold out the window, chuckling while the bird briefly descended in a freefall before finding bearing with its wings and swooping off into the distance.

-o-O-o-

His final day – two double blocks of fifth year Charms – was a success. George knew that teaching would get more demanding as the weeks went on, when he would have more complicated spells to teach, essays to mark, and tests to write, but he was relieved to make it through the first week, knowing that it was his initial hurdle. After saying goodbye to his Hufflepuff and Slytherin fifth years, George returned to his room for the evening, unsure of how to spend the remainder of his night. During his time working at his joke shop, he would usually come home and prepare to go out to meet Quidditch mates or collapse in to his couch to enjoy a glass of firewhiskey.

George wandered over to his flat's kitchenette. Opening the cupboard, he found his half-drunk bottle of firewhiskey. He picked it up gingerly and flipped it around in his hand, considering whether he wanted to pour himself a glass. The rich liquid was tempting. His head felt cluttered with too many thoughts and confusions, a problem the liquor would alleviate. His sleeping had been better since arriving at the castle; the number of times he would awake throughout the night, sweating, breathing quickly, with his mind reeling from a nightmare or bad premonition had decreased, if not completely disappeared. Still, he knew that a glass of the whiskey would be helpful for relaxing throughout the evening and for falling asleep once night fell.

"No," George thought resolutely. He had decided to turn a new leaf at Hogwarts and that meant no longer drinking alone. Casting a lengthy look at the bottle in his hand, he instead stowed it in his leather messenger bag. Grabbing his Hogwarts cloak off its hook, he draped it over his shoulders, covering his less-than-fancy outfit of a dark grey tee shirt and faded, worn jeans.

Wandering the halls he passed several groups of students, but, for the most part, his path was uninterrupted. George wasn't sure exactly where his intended destination was, so he just kept walking, enjoying the cool air and the stillness of the castle.

"Oi, Weasley. Where do you think you're going?" A rough, scarcely audible voice broke the quiet. There was something ominous about the tone.

"Wh-wh…" George spun around to face the disturbance. He was surprised to see Caretaker Filtch leaning up against the brick wall of the corridor. It wasn't like George to be oblivious to his surroundings. "Oh, howdy Angus. Just out for an evening stroll…" George grinned in the realization that he no longer had to supply justification for being out after classes, but provided one regardless: "Figured it would be smart to monitor the halls."

"Really," Filtch narrowed his eyes and stared doubtfully at George.

"Yah, Just doing my part," George responded sweetly. "Important for all of us faculty members to pitch in, don't ya know."

"Ok," Filtch muttered dejectedly. The old man clearly assumed that George had more mischievous plans for the evening, but knew he couldn't be disrespectful towards a teacher. "Very well…carry on, Weasley….Stay close Mrs. Norris," Filtch commanded his mangy, decrepit cat. The pair limbed off in the opposite direction as George. George couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of the departing man followed closely by his feral cat. It was no wonder that the man treated George with mistrust; the entirety of their interaction while George was at Hogwarts consisted of George trying to avoid getting caught in a prank by Filtch.

Grinning to himself, George continued on his walk, having some idea as to where he was headed. He passed the familiar portrait of the fat lady leading into the Gryffindor common room and kept going until he noticed the standing coat of arms that marked the entrance of Hermione's living quarters. Knocking loudly on the bricks that he knew made up Hermione's door, George called to his friend.

"Oi, Hermione, you there? It's George."

"Oh ya, coming," George could hardly make out the young woman's faint voice coming from the other side of the wall. Shortly, the hidden door in the brick wall swung open revealing Hermione. She had clearly not been expecting company; she was already in her pink-checked, flannel pajama pants and clingy white tank top. Her hair was in its natural curls, slightly damp, and piled on top of her head in a messy knot.

"Hi Hermione," George greeted his friend brightly.

"Er, hi George….ah, what are you doing here," She asked, self-consciously folding her arms in front of her chest.

"Ahh, not entirely sure. Just wanted to spend some time with someone…Didn't fancy an evening by myself, I suppose…" He countered lamely, unable to articulate what had led him to visit Hermione.

"Er, I wasn't planning on entertaining anyone tonight. Clearly" – Hermione laughed and gestured at her pajama clothing choice. "But you're more than welcome to stay. I was just planning on doing some reading." Hermione led George into her flat where she lounged onto her light brown couch. Athena, her pet tabby, promptly jumped onto the couch and lay contently beside her owner, purring loudly.

"Brilliant…care for a nightcap?" George asked. He produced the firewhiskey from his bag and gently shook the liquor bottle in front of Hermione.

"Er, ah, probably best I don't," Hermione chuckled. "Luna and I have an early morning planned. But you're more than welcome to stay and visit. It's too bad you didn't bring anything to read with you…"

"Guess, I'll save this for another time," George grinned and returned the firewhiskey to his bag. "Knowing you, I thought maybe you would have settled in for a quiet evening and hoped you wouldn't mind me tagging along," He pulled Hermione's old copy of the seventh year Charms text from his messenger bag. "Prepared for that too..."

"You know me well, clearly," Hermione teased, patting the couch beside her, indicating to George to take a seat.

"Only took me fifteen years," George laughed. Accepting her offer, he slyly picked up Hermione's feet off the end couch cushion and collapsed onto the couch, gently placing Hermione's feet in his lap.

The pair sat silently for some time, reading their respective books, occasionally stopping to make notes in the texts. Eventually, the music playing in Hermione's flat ceased and the brunette stood up and walked over to a strange contraption George didn't recognize.

"What is that, Mione?" George asked, staring at the large box-like object, from which Hermione had removed a black disc.

"It's a record player." Hermione informed him. "A long time ago Muggles would use them to use them to listen to music….er, I think some Muggles still use them…mainly, because they think they're cool."

"How does it work?" George asked intrigued. He had inherited some of his father's interest in Muggle artifacts and often incorporated them into his shop's products.

"The needle reads the grooves on the disc as it spins. That makes the music play." Hermione continued: "When I was a kid, I used to always listen to music all the time with my dad. It was like our thing, driving and listening to music together. I guess it was important for him to teach me about his favourite bands and singers. When I came to teach at Hogwarts, I wanted to get back into it and so I looked into a way to play music here. None of the usual Muggle ways of playing music work at Hogwarts though…with the magic and all…The last time I visited my parents, I found my dad's old record player from when he was young. I figured out a way to modify it to work with magic…My dad gave me a ton of old records, so I'm working my way through listening to all of them."

Hermione picked a different black disc out of an envelope. "Here, listen to this. It's one of my favourite songs ever. My dad introduced me to this band when I was a kid. He liked them when he was young." She had a wistful look in her eye as she replaced the record on the player with the one in her hand. After a few pitchy shrieks, the needle settled on the record and a new music filled Hermione's flat.

"Hmm…" George contemplated, listening to the soft instrumentals, the gentle voice, and the haunting melody coming from Hermione's record player. The concerts his Quidditch teammates sometimes took him to were much loader and more boisterous but he liked the quiet, contemplative music Hermione had chosen. "This is pretty nice….Hey, you know, this song could be about me."

"Why's that George?" Hermione asked, reclaiming her spot in the couch.

"Because I have blue eyes," George gestured to his face at the very moment the song lyrics, once again, mentioned blue eyes. Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth and rosy cheeks turned a slightly deeper red.

"Erm…that is not why I picked this song." She muttered sheepishly.

"Oh really?" George grinned. "Not even a little bit? I wouldn't be offended Mione. I realize my eyes are quite remarkable." He flashed an easygoing smirk Hermione's direction.

"I don't know George. I can't say I've noticed. Besides, your eyes are a rather bright blue, hardly fits with the song." She grinned slyly and bit her lip but returned her attention to her book.

"So what do you and Luna have planned for tomorrow that is more important than sharing a drink with me," George asked coyly, hoping to delay having to return to his reading.

"Luna's hoping to break the newest Hippogriff pup and wants me to help,"

"Break?"

"Yah, it's important to take them out when they're young to teach them to fly with someone. So we're going to go out flying."

"That sounds fun," George perked at the idea of flying: one of his favourite hobbies.

"Really? Have you ever ridden a Hippogriff?" Hermione asked disbelievingly.

"Well…no. Tried once. Came across one in the forest, and so Fr-" George stopped abruptly before introducing his twin to the conversation. "So, I got an owl from Ginny today." He quickly introduced a new topic.

"Me too," Hermione responded a little too quickly, obviously aware of George's discomfort with the topic of his twin.

"Really?"

"Yah, well we try to maintain a regular correspondence."

"I didn't realize that…she didn't tell me that you were teaching here."

"That is weird. She didn't tell me you were coming here either."

"Do you think she just forgot," George questioned. His little sister had always been fond of gossip and it wasn't like her to avoid an opportunity to talk.

"I guess so," Hermione shrugged nonplussed.

"Do you see Ginny often?" George asked.

"Er, I wish I saw her more. It's been tough ever since she and Harry got married…it just seems so much more difficult to find time to spend together." Hermione looked downcast at the idea that she and Ginny had let their friendship lapse. "I mean, when we're together, it's just like old times. We just feel so close and all. But it's harder to find time I guess. We're both so busy. She has Quidditch and Harry and I'm all the way over here at Hogwarts…"

"I know what you mean." George did. Every time he saw his younger sister it felt as if more time had elapsed since he last saw her.

"And….don't take this the wrong way, but you're sister can be…"

"Nosey?"

"No George. Just with her and Harry, they're so…"

"Happy?"

"No, that's not it," Hermione looked into the distance, obviously trying to find a way to verbalize her thoughts.

"Unnecessarily lovey-dovey?"

"No, not that either…"

"Evangelical about marriage?"

"Yes! That's exactly it," Hermione exclaimed, sitting up taller on the couch, clearly pleased that George had helped her formulate her idea.

"I know exactly what you mean," George smiled wistfully. Ever since Harry and his sister had gotten married, Ginny had taken to pressing him about when he was going to settle down. It had gotten to the point of being highly annoying.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I love your sister,"

"I know,"

"But it's always: 'Hermione, what's going on with the men in your life? Hermione, let me set you up with someone,'" Hermione sighed, "It's a little much, I mean, I'm a professor, I wrote a book. I've got a lot going on, you know,"

"I know." George grinned despite his friend's frustration. It was clear she had received the same grilling from Ginny that he had on many occasions. "So, speaking of…are you seeing anyone Hermione?"

"Really, George?" Hermione gave him a look of exasperation.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. I'm not seeing anyone. I was kind of, I guess…but" – Hermione paused, struggling for the correct words – "But he was nothing….special." Hermione gave her head a quick shake and focused, once again on George. "And what about you, Weasley? Any lovely young lady waiting for you back in London?"

"Hardly,"

"No?"

"Definitely not," George chuckled. It had been a long time since he had made it past the three date marker with any particular woman; a fact of which Ginny and his mum often reminded him. "I, er, come with a lot of baggage…what with the war…and everything…"

"Oh George, I'm so sorry. I didn't think…" Hermione shuffled along the couch and settled beside George. She gently draped her arm around his back and he let himself lean into her, comfortably finding a place resting on her shoulder. "I know you probably don't want to talk about it, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'm always her for you."

"Thanks Hermione." George patted her knee. "It-it…it's not easy for me to talk about."

"I get that George. I'm so very sorry. I can't imagine what you're going through." Hermione spoke softly, but her voice was filled with understanding and compassion. George turned to look at her. Her expression was one of pure caring. There was something about the warmth in her eyes and the gentleness of her tone that made George realize that she was someone to whom he could disclose his hurt.

"I-I…I really miss him, Hermione." George's voice cracked and he bit his lower lip to prevent it from quivering. It wasn't rare for him to fall apart quickly at the thought of his twin, but usually such instances took place while he was on his own. "Sometimes I forget-forget that he's…that he's gone. And then I remember and it's like I'm going through it all over again….I know…it's been so long…but it's like…it's like it was yesterday…" George voice faded. The energy expended in holding in even such an obviously sentiment was immense. Allowing the thought to take life left George exhausted. He felt as if he could no longer sit up. Without seeking permission he shifted from sitting up to a lying position. George let his head fall into Hermione's lap, where he collapsed, feeling neither strong enough to move nor talk

"Oh George." Hermione barely muttered. Fortunately, she seemed to instinctively understand his need for stillness. Hermione's presence was calming and George felt at peace despite his inner hurt and turmoil. George's eyes swelled with tears but he willed them not to spill. As vulnerable as he was being with Hermione, he didn't want to completely fall apart and crying in front of her was not something with which he felt comfortable. He focused instead on the warmth of Hermione's legs beneath his head and the calming undulation of her breath. Hermione ran one of her hands through the short bristles of George's hair while the other alternated between stroking his shoulder, brushing his cheek, and tracing her finger around the exposed wound of his bad ear. Focusing on her touch, George's breath slowed and his heart stopped beating at an accelerated pace. He couldn't remember the last time he had allowed himself to be held in the way that Hermione was cradling him. He felt that, as a grown man, he should be self-conscious to be held like a child, but pushed aside any such cares; the relief he received from Hermione's grasp outweighed any insecurities.

"Hermione…t-thank you," George stammered, unsure of how to articulate his gratefulness for his friend's understanding. It was rare that someone would just provide comfort without pressing for more details and overly encouraging him to discuss his pain. Hermione didn't badger him to talk. She seemed to realize that he didn't have the capacity, even after so many years, to say what was on his mind. Hermione's willingness to just allow him to be silent and vulnerable was exactly what he needed.

"It's alright George," Hermione muttered. "I'm here for you."

"I know," George didn't think his comment was audible, but it didn't seem to matter. There were things that could go unsaid between the two friends. The soft music that filled Hermione's flat continued to play and George didn't move; it was too easy to remain cuddled in Hermione's lap: to enjoy her warm hands running through his hair, to let her kindness nurse his pain, to know that he wasn't alone.

"I'm always going to be here for you George," She whispered without removing her hand from his hair. Intuitively, George knew what she said was true.

_Author's Note: Ten points to Gryffindor for anyone who can figure out what song Hermione played for George. I had a particular song in mind that I listened to while writing that part, although I realize I didn't leave many hints… __Once again, any suggestions on plot direction would be lovely. Like George wandering around the castle, I'm not really sure where I'm talking this story…_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight **

_Author's Note: Not mine – JK's! Sorry, short, filler chapter. I think my next Chapter will be longer and more will happen. _

The next morning George woke early. He pulled on his oldest, most faded pair of jeans and a snug, grey henley. As he left his living quarters, he grabbed his broom and slung it over his shoulder. Before he had left Hermione's flat the night before, she had invited him to come flying while she and Luna trained the Hippogriff pup. The day was not sunny, but it wasn't overcast either; it was an ideal day for flying. George was eager to get back on his broom. He hadn't flown since his long trip from London to Hogwarts.

"Hey guys," George shouted to his friends as he exited the castle through a side door. Hermione had told him where to meet them on the grounds and, sure enough, his friends were already up and waiting for him. George wandered over to greet the rest.

"Hi George," Luna commented rather brightly. George smiled at the appearance of the girl. She was clad head to toe in a vivid, blueberry blue track suit paired with equally vibrant, canary yellow trainers. Neville stood uncomfortably beside Luna. George sensed that he was nervous for the day; a lot of wizards were uneasy with flying.

"George." Hermione's soft voice spoke gently beside him. She rested her hand on his lower back and gave him a quick pat. When he had left her flat, she had offered him a warm hug which he had gladly accepted. In so few words, with just a warm touch she had helped him feel much better than he had in some time. He didn't have the words to tell her how appreciative he was, but that didn't seem to matter; her pat on his back told them they shared an understanding. George had been concerned that their intimacy and familiarity from the night before would result in awkwardness the next morning, but it hadn't.

"You look all ready to go, Mione," George adopted a jovial tone, hoping the others wouldn't pick up on the silent exchange between him and Hermione. Hermione was dressed for flying. She had old, loose-fitting jeans on and an oversized bright blue tee shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a messy plait. The way much of it hung in loose curls around her face was more becoming, George though, than the times she intentionally straightened her hair and wore it neatly. Combined with her rosy cheeks and excited smile, she looked even prettier than usual.

"Helga and Genevieve will be by the edge of the forest…that's where they always are," Luna commented dreamily, pointing in the direction of which she spoke.

"Helga and Genevieve?" George questioned.

"Those are the Hippogriffs" – Hermione informed him – "Luna likes to give human names to all of the animals."

The group made their way to the forest. When they reached the edge, Luna clucked her tongue to her teeth and called for the Hippogriffs. Momentarily, a full-grown Hippogriff ventured out from the line of trees followed closely by a young, shy pup. Even though the pup was small for a Hippogriff, it still towered over the tiny Luna. Luna sprinkled food on the ground and, when the animal ducked to reach the treat, she expertly grabbed the pup by a spot just behind its ear.

"Ok, girl…I got you," Luna cooed to the animal while its mother watched nonplussed. It was clear that the older beast was familiar with the Care of Magical Creature's professor. Luna led the Hippogriffs and her colleagues to one of the empty fields usually used for flying lessons or Quidditch practices. "Hermione, if you want you and Nev can ride Helga and I'll take Genevieve here." Luna instructed the younger animal to bow and climbed onto its back, using its knee as a boost.

"Sounds good, Luna," Hermione nodded and grabbed a hold of the older Hippogriff and mounted it in the same fashion that Luna had the pup. She offered a hand to Neville, who clambered up behind her and sat awkwardly on the beast. George chuckled despite his friend's discomfort. He couldn't tell what made Neville more uneasy: sitting atop of the large animal or having to wrap his arms intimately around Hermione's waist. Luna urged the baby Hippogriff into the air. After a few tentative hops, it gave its wings a couple of mighty flaps and took off, soaring off the ground. Hermione kicked the mother Hippogriff in the midsection and it joined its pup in flight. After watching his friends fly up above him, George hopped onto his broom and zoomed into the air, easily overtaking the others. He was glad that he wasn't suspended in midair atop a creature over which he didn't have complete control. While flying on his broom was something that he always had found enjoyable, other modes of flight made him wary. Unlike with his broom, he could never be sure how winged creatures would respond to his cues. The sight of Neville looking rather pale on the back of the Hippogriff only made George gladder to be comfortably atop his familiar broom.

As he flew, George resisted the temptation to show off to his friends by completing complicated and highly skilled Quidditch maneuvers. He thought the quick movement might startle the young creature and figured that his companions wouldn't be pleased to be distracted from their task at hand. Luna was uncharacteristically focused on training the young Hippogriff. George couldn't help be impressed with the way she expertly handled the pup. She sat lightly in the saddle and continually cooed gentle reminders to the animal, managing to keep it calm in the air. Hermione, for her part, was clearly not as experienced with the Hippogriffs as her friend, but she managed to hold her own. George smiled at the way she sat comfortably on the back of the large beast, a grin playing on her face as she offered just as much encouragement to Neville as to the animal she was flying. Slowly looping the pair of Hippogriffs, George enjoyed the light breeze and crisp air; flying never failed to raise his spirits.

The four kept flying until Luna had determined that Genevieve, the Hippogriff pup, had practiced enough for its first time. The tiny blonde signaled to her friends that it was time to return to ground. Hermione deftly kicked the elder Hippogriff into an easy descent and joined Luna on the grass. After a final turn above the pitch and a few loop-de-loops for enjoyments sake, George shot towards the ground, instantly leveling right before he was about to hit the grass.

"I think that's enough for Genevieve for today," Luna commented, tousling the soft fur as high up as she could reach on the pup's neck. She placed her hand on the animal and began to lead it back to the edge of the forest. Helga trotted along beside while the three professors trailed along behind.

"Hey, is anyone up for getting together at the Hog's Head tonight?" George turned to address his two friends. "I don't have any grading to do yet and I think tomorrow will be enough time to prepare my lesson plans…"

"That sounds lovely George," Hermione spoke overly kindly beside him. George wondered if she was being intentionally sensitive around him in response to the previous night. "Luna and I have a meeting for all the Heads of Houses tonight, so we wouldn't be able to make it tonight."

"What do you say, Nev" – George spun to face Neville – "You and me, getting together for drinks tonight?"

"Really?" Neville slowed his pace and turned to look at George in surprise. "Just you and me? Going for drinks together," The young man mulled over the words, clearly not having expected George's offer.

"Sure thing, mate. It could be a lot of fun."

"Sure, ok…that sounds great…mate." Neville agreed tentatively.

"Brilliant. Let's meet after dinner and head over to Hogsmeade."

-o-O-o-

George spent the rest of the afternoon in his office, prepping for the upcoming week. There wasn't much work for him to do as he was able to use the course outlines in the text books that Hermione had given him. None of the work was very complicated. Given all his experimentation for his shop, George's charms skills were highly advanced; the lessons were comparatively quite basic. Even so, he was glad when he was able to put his books down and grab his cloak to wander down to the Great Hall for dinner. George spent dinner listening to Terence Higgs tell him how the current Slytherin Quidditch team was going to be the strongest yet. He wasn't sure of his proper response; his support was obviously behind Gryffindor, but he didn't think it something he should be outspoken about. Once the meal was over, George made eye contact with Neville and the pair of men met up at the entrance of the Great Hall.

"Ready to go, Nev?" George asked, patting his friend on the shoulder.

"Sure thing, mate," Neville replied. He looked rather proper in a hunter green, cable knit sweater with tailored jeans. Neville had clearly gained some understanding of fashion since his years as a student. The sweater fit him well through his broad shoulders and the colour accentuated his eyes. George wondered if his companion had put consideration into his attire for their night out. George had not. He was wearing his usual uniform of jeans and a tee shirt.

The pair made their way down one of George's familiar paths to Hogsmeade. They had figured such mode of transportation would be easier than hitching a carriage to a thestral. George didn't say anything to Neville, but he was pleased that they had decided to walk; the gruesome thestrals still made him uncomfortable. They eventually emerged in the cellar at Honeydukes and then made their way over to the Hog's Head.

After ordering a round of Butterbeers from Aberforth, George and Neville found a secluded table in the practically empty tavern and soon fell into easy conversation. George was surprised at how comfortable he was with the younger man; while they had known each other at Hogwarts and had crossed paths often in the Gryffindor common room, they hadn't exactly been friends.

"So, are you going to Hermione's birthday at Slughorn's?" Neville asked George while setting down his mug of Butterbeer.

"I don't know about that," George responded with a quizzical glance.

"Oh yah, it happens every year. Slughorn throws a big birthday party for Hermione in his office. I guess it's kind of a welcome back thing too. All of the faculty goes. It should happen in a couple of weeks."

"Slughorn, eh?" George responded, raising one eyebrow. "Does he fancy Hermione or something?" George was slightly repulsed by the idea of the much older man being interested in Hermione. He also felt a trace of jealousy that he couldn't quite place or identify from where it came.

"Well, not like that mate," Neville grinned, leaning back in his chair. "I think he just admires Hermione an awful lot."

"Oh, so it's not creepy or anything?" George asked, smiling over the rim of his glass.

"It might be a little bit" – Neville joked – "But it seems pretty innocent to me."

"Well, I'll come for sure. You're going right?" George asked.

"Oh yah, everyone goes. All the professors should be there. I think Luna will go…" Neville's voice trailed off at the end of his sentence.

"That sounds brilliant mate…so, Luna's going to be there?" George responded with a slight wink.

"I suppose. I mean, she's great friends with Hermione. I don't know why she wouldn't go. Everyone will be going." Neville commented shyly. George tried not to chuckle at his friends flustered speech.

"You and Luna are pretty great friends too, eh?"

"I guess. We were friends at school. And now we work together. I guess you could say we're pretty good friends."

"Looks that way to me," George said with a grin.

"Really?"

"Yah, mate. I mean, I see you two together all the time…if I didn't know better I would swear you're hooking up or something."

"Oh, well" – An undeniable blush rose on Neville's face and his stammer increased – "W-we-we aren't or any-anything. I mean. Luna's great and awesome and beautiful but she's-she's not in-interested in me I'm sure…"

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." George told Neville encouragingly.

"Really?" – Neville asked incredulously – "No…she's…not…"

"I don't know. You should ask her to this party or something. I think she'd appreciate it. I mean, I've seen the way you too are around each other. I'm not going to lie, it's pretty sickening mate."

"Sickening?"

"In a good way. You know, sickly sweet."

"Really?"

"Yah, definitely. I think you should make a move there. I'm sure she'd be receptive."

Neville didn't respond to George's suggestion. He looked fervently into the distance before shaking himself back into full consciousness. Neville quickly changed the topic and the two men started talking about classes and students. George continued to find himself enjoying his time with the younger man. Eventually, late into the evening, the pair returned to the castle.

_Author's Note: If anyone is interested, the song I imagined that Hermione put on the record player was "Pale Blue Eyes" by Velvet Underground. It was the song I listened to while writing that part. It's a fantastic song that I would highly recommend checking out if you haven't already. I forgot about "Behind Blue Eyes" by The Who, but after some people pointed it out I realized that it is just as likely [and also an awesome song]. I should have left more hints. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine **

_Author's Note: Thanks so much to those who are reading, following, and leaving comments! Not mine- JK's _

Later in the week, George awoke at a time that was even early for him. His free time was becoming more limited as lessons were becoming more and more demanding. Preparing an examination on Cheering Charms for his third year classes had kept him up later the previous night than he had ever stayed up working on his own school work as a student. After hearing about Hermione's birthday celebrations, he had decided that he would create something new as a present for his friend. He knew that a quick trip into Hogsmeade and a visit to Flourish & Blotts or Honeydukes would be simple enough, but he wanted to give Hermione something special and unique. As the owner of the most popular joke shop in the wizard community, he knew that creating something of his own would be the best way to achieve such an objective. Ever since finding out about Slughorn's party for Hermione, George had spent what spare time he had tinkering in his office, experimenting on different presents for Hermione.

George looked up from his work and checked his watch. It was already time for breakfast. He never was particularly conscientious of the passage of time while he was working on his products; it always seemed to move much faster than it did when he did anything else. George reluctantly got up from his desk, disappointed that he hadn't made any more headway on Hermione's present, and left his office to join the rest of the school at breakfast.

The Great Hall was almost full by the time George entered.

"George! George! Over here!" He heard a melodic voice yell at him from one corner of the instructors' table. Hermione was half-standing in her chair and waving at George. Once his attention was drawn to her, she began to feverously pat the empty chair next to her. She seemed bursting with something to tell him.

"How's it going, Mione," George slid into the available chair.

"Morning George. I have a huge favour to ask you. Want to coach the Gryffindor Quidditch team? It would be so great if you did," Hermione rushed through her proposition in practically one breath.

"Whoa, slow down, Mione. I don't know if I can comprehend all that before breakfast," George grinned and gently patted Hermione's hand.

"Sorry, about that. I just thought of it this morning and it's the greatest idea." Hermione smiled. "I think that you should help coach the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They've finished last in the league that last few years and you'd really help."

"Hmm," George mulled over Hermione's suggestion; his days were already filled with lectures and lesson plans, but he missed having Quidditch in his life. Also, Hermione's eagerness was contagious. "That sounds like it could be fun. Are professor's allowed to coach?" George asked. When he had played Quidditch at Hogwarts, all the practices had been student led and teachers didn't supply any outside assistance.

"Well, I've checked the rule books and it's not explicitly prohibited. Besides, Terry-er Professor Higgs, is running practices for the Slytherin team. I know he's Head of Slytherin, but it shouldn't make a difference. I'm sure it would be fine if you help out with Gryffindor. We could really use you, George," – Hermione gave him a beseeching look – "I don't particularly fancy seeing the team struggle again this year. Your skill and expertise would be very helpful."

"Oh Mione. Compliments like that will get you everywhere," – George had already inwardly decided to participate; he loved Quidditch and Hermione's excitement was enough to persuade him. The fact that his mind was already made up didn't deter him from the opportunity to tease his friend, however – "I never saw you for much of a Quidditch fan, Mione. What's with this complete change of heart? What makes you care so much about the sport all of the sudden?"

"Er well," – Hermione composed herself – "You know, as Head of Gryffindor, it is very much an issue which I should be mindful of. If Gryffindor is succeeding at Quidditch, it benefits all those connected to Gryffindor. Therefore, as Head of the House, Quidditch is entirely in my purview…" She laughed at her feigned pretentious speech. "Oh George, just say you'll do it."

"Obviously I'd love to, Mione. And I guess this means I will be able to cheer for Gryffindor and not feel bad about it. When do you need me?"

"Practice field at 5:00 this afternoon?"

"I'll be there,"

-o-O-o-

George was already waiting at the practice field before the Gryffindor Quidditch team arrived. The day was cloudy and chilly; he wished that he had opted for something warmer than his flimsy, green short-sleeved top.

"Hey George," Hermione waved at him from the other end of the pitch. She jogged across the grass, careful not to stumble over her plaid wellingtons. Unlike George, Hermione had chosen proper attire for the weather. She looked cozy in her oversized, heavy-knit, dark purple, turtleneck jumper. "The team should be her soon, I suppose," She mentioned once she reached George's side. George let his broom fall to the grass and gave Hermione a quick greeting hug. He wasn't sure if such contact was inappropriate between two professors, but since there weren't students present, he assumed it was permissible. Hermione returned his hug, alleviating his concerns. "Thank you so much for doing this George. I think the team will really appreciate it. I know I do,"

"Erm, it-it's really not a problem. You know how much I love Quidditch." George looked across the pitch and saw a group of students – all wearing Gryffindor's practice jersey's – in the distance, making their way towards him and Hermione. He recognized most of them from class, but Hermione pointed out the members of the team, filling George in on the details of each student.

"The two tallest are Chet Morris and Alan McKibbon. They're our beaters and in fourth year. The oldest on the team," Hermione commented. George was impressed that she had finally learned some of the Quidditch terminology.

"Bloody hell, our oldest members are only in fourth year?" George groaned, knowing that such a young team would be tough to lead to any sort of success.

"Er yah…it's been awhile since we've had a decent team. From the sounds of it, they haven't had much luck since the days we were at Hogwarts." From Hermione's grimace, George gathered that the failure of the Gryffindor Quidditch team was a source of frustration for all those in the house. "The really short blonde girl on the end" – Hermione continued – "is Lexi Paul. She's our seeker, second year…youngest Gryffindor seeker since Harry." Hermione grinned proudly, likely both for her good friend and the young girl in her house. "Apparently she shows a lot of promise." Hermione pointed out the rest of the team until the two professors were eventually joined by the youngsters.

"Hey guys," George called out while the team formed a semi-circle around him and Hermione. The students all wore similar puzzled looks. George and Hermione were met with a chorus of confusion:

"What are you doing here, Professor Weasley?"

"What's going on?"

"Is everything ok, Professor Granger?"

"Is practice still on,"

"Hey everyone," – Hermione's voice rung out, silencing the murmurs of her team – "George er, I mean, Professor Weasley, of course, has kindly volunteered to help out the team this year. For those of you who don't know, Professor Weasley was a star beater in his day at Hogwarts and led the Gryffindor team one of its last Cup victories."

"Er, not exactly, Mione," – George hoped his use of Hermione's nickname went undetected by his students, but was sure they had noticed – "Ah, Professor Granger said some very nice things about my Quidditch skills…I'm not sure all of them are true, but yah, I was on the Gryffindor team and we were pretty successful in some of the years I played. So I guess I'll just be helping out with running through some drills and whatnot at practice." George stammered slightly, hoping that Hermione hadn't oversold his abilities.

"You played with Potter, right?" The girl Hermione had identified as Lexi shyly asked in a soft voice. She smiled eagerly, while nervously playing with one of her blonde braids. George easily recognized her from his second-year Charms class, but he had never heard her speak or bring attention to herself.

"Yah Lexi, I sure did. Potter was brilliant. Still is a great Seeker. Mi-Professor Granger tells me you're our seeker so hopefully I'll be able to remember a couple of his signature moves and we'll work on them."

"Brilliant," The girl sighed as her grin grew larger.

"Ok team, why don't you take a couple laps for warm up and then we'll get going on some drills." George instructed. The team all mounted their brooms and shot into the air, beginning a counter-clockwise looping of the pitch. George watched his team's flight as Hermione filled him in on some of their woes from the past few seasons. The last few cups had been won alternately by Slytherin and Hufflepuff, while Gryffindor had been a constant near the bottom.

"Lexi looks like she has some talent," George commented as he observed the small girl on her broom; she was definitely blessed with the necessary raw abilities. She sat easily on her broom and moved with poise and precision. Her size would be a concern, but George was certain that he would be able to help her hone her natural skills.

"Yah, some of the older Gryffindors were saying that she's the first seeker since Ginny who's any good." Hermione mentioned. George was surprised that she had been discussing the sport with students, but remembered how easy it was to get caught up in the excitement of the game. Hermione continued, explaining to him that, as a result of the void at seeker, the team's offence had been constantly poor for a number of years. As Hermione talked, George studied the rest of the team. The beaters – Chet and Alan – were both somewhat clumsy on their brooms, but they were large and flew recklessly, an added bonus for beaters. He easily recognized one of his chasers as Cora Collins from his first year Charms Class. She had an unmistakable mass of tiny braids and was particularly outgoing, outspoken, and generally surrounded by her classmates. George noticed that she was a careless flyer, but quick, and she easily outpaced the rest of the team. It was clear that she was an extremely confident flyer, especially for someone so young, and George wasn't surprised that she was able to make the team, even as a first year. The other chasers – Jeannie Lang and Brian Alderson, both third years – seemed to be proficient fliers. Rebekah Higgins, the second year keeper, George figured, would have to prove her merit in drills as it was particularly difficult to gage a keeper's skills merely from how they flew.

George tapped his wand against his throat to magnify his voice's volume.

"Ok team, bring it in," He bellowed across the pitch. As he team turned to join him, George turned to Hermione and spoke at a normal tone. "Are you going to stick around for practice?"

"Yah, if that's alright."

"Of course," George grinned, finding that he was excited to have Hermione witness him in his element. Hermione perched on the chest of practice balls that George had lugged out to field and waved to George while he jumped on his own broom to fly to the centre of the pitch. "Gather 'round guys," He returned to the loud volume and yelled to his team. The Gryffindor team grouped around George, where they all hovered fifty feet off the ground at centre pitch. "Ok, I thought we'd just start off with a few basic flying drills," He told them.

For the next hour, George ran his team through the flying patterns that were important staples of the game. For the most part, his team flew better than he had expected and he was able to introduce some more difficult tactics to the drills. Cora and Lexi were especially impressive on their brooms and George could tell that, in the next few years, Gryffindor would be able to build a strong squad around the two girls. Alan and Chet lacked precision in their turns, but George knew that beaters could get away with shakier skills. The rest of the team had solid, if not particularly showy, flying abilities. George followed his team through the drills. The flying helped warm him up and his tee-shirt was no longer insufficient against the cool air. He could feel that his cheeks were getting flush and his smile grew as he ran through the practice, occasionally stopping to yell encouragement and advice to the students.

"Ok guys. That's enough drills for today. Let's finish practice with a little four-on-four," George told his team after gathering them around him, figuring that they were ready for a change from practicing the flying maneuvers. "Rebekah, Cora, Brian, and Chet…you guys will make up one team. Brian, take seeker position," George instructed, directing the players to the other side of the field. "The rest of us will be the other team." George quickly flew to the other end of the pitch and assumed the keeper position. "Granger, do you mind releasing the balls?" Hermione gave him a thumbs-up signal and unhinged the chest she had just been sitting on, letting the Snitch, Quaffle and Bludgers escape their confinement. The balls shot off in varying directions. George never even saw the tiny, golden Sntich. "Game on!" He shouted and the Gryffindor teammates flew off, eager to show off their skills to their new coach.

George watched his team while he guarded the goal posts. Even across the pitch he could tell that Rebekah was timid at keeper, but she also made a couple dazzling saves. George called out encouragements to her from his end of the pitch. He already liked the young keeper, if only because her hair was so red that she could have been mistaken for a Weasley. Cora scored a brilliant goal on George, beating him nimbly with a dizzying maneuver and leaving him feeling sheepish. Her dark eyes glittered with glee as she playfully taunted her coach with a mischievous grin. After Cora and Jeannie both scored several goals, Lexi quickly dove towards the ground, speeding downward on her broom before abruptly switching directions just prior to crashing into the ground. With one small hand held out in front of her, she deftly glided along, almost brushing the grass, until pulling up on her broom and beginning a loop of the field with one arm above her head. George could barely make out the glittering Snitch, struggling in her hand.

"Well done, Lexi," George called, flying towards the centre of the pitch. "Come'on in guys," He called, descending towards the grass, landing softly beside Hermione. He was soon joined by his team. "Great practice team. We'll get some more ball handling going next week. We'll be ready for our match against Slytherin in no time!" George declared encouragingly. He wasn't particularly confident that what he said was true based on what he had heard about the prowess of the Slytherin squad. Nevertheless, his team had impressed him; it was clear that they were inexperienced and he realized that the lack of team size would hurt them, but he thought he saw a lot of potential. "See you in class and at the next practice," He called to his players. They yelled thanks and farewells as they wandered off the pitch.

"Need a hand there, George?" Hermione asked as George tried to force the balls back into their chest.

"Thanks, Mione. That would be great." George mentioned gratefully. Hermione held down one of the struggling Bludgers as he strapped it back into its compartment. "So I thought that went well…" He commented, looking to Hermione for her opinion.

"You were brilliant, George," Hermione complimented while George latched the chest. "I think everyone really appreciated having you here. I'm already feeling better about this upcoming season."

"Yah? Well hopefully we'll be able to manage some decent games. It'll be tough, not a lot of experience on our side. But I thought they looked pretty good out there," George smiled brightly and effortlessly hosted his broom and the chest of balls onto his shoulder. He hoped that Hermione had not noticed that he had quickly used a lightening spell on the container to make it easy to carry.

"I think they'll be alright" – Hermione commented as the pair walked across the pitch – "Slyterin won't be as good as last year or as Terry keeps insisting they will be…lost their keeper and a couple of chasers. Hufflepuff will be a tough match though."

"Mione" – George whistled – "Look at you and all your Quidditch knowledge," He reached over with his free hand and ruffled his friend's hair.

"Really Weasley? Don't patronize me. I already told you, as Head of Gryffindor, it's important that I keep track of things important to Gryffindor. That includes Quidditch."

"I'm just taking the mickey out of you, Mione. I think it's brilliant that you're so keen about the team."

"Ah, well thanks. Hey, what are you doing after dinner?" Hermione asked with a slight smile. George had planned on staying in his office to fiddle with Hermione's present. He was still a long way from being satisfied with the project and in order for it to be ready by her birthday celebration it would require considerable more work. However, he didn't want to reveal those plans to his friend.

"Er, nothing really. Did you want to hang out or something?"

"Yah, if you'd like to, feel free to swing by my flat..."

"Sure, that sounds great," George mentioned as they reached the hut that housed the school's sporting equipment. "I'm going to put this away" – George motioned to this chest balanced on his broad shoulder – "I'll see you at dinner though."

-o-O-o-

George hurried to his living quarters where he quickly cleaned himself up and put on a fresh shirt. He didn't want to be late for dinner. He arrived at the Great Hall just as the students were filing in and found an empty spot in between Fiona Doctel and Terence Higgs. The three made easy conversation about their courses. George nodded as Terence discussed the exercises he was running his Defence against the Dark Arts classes through. George still hadn't fully formed his opinion on his colleague. His initial assumption was likely correct; the man was slightly pompous. However, he was also quite affable and easygoing and George admired his obvious passion for teaching the defences against the dark arts. Higgs was easily the most agreeable Slytherin with whom George had ever interacted. He also was the type of man who preferred the sound of his own voice over that of others and George found that, for the most part, his participation in the conversation consisted of nods and murmurs of agreement.

After dinner, George wandered towards Hermione's quarters, purposely avoiding, as he always did, the corridor where the wall fell on his twin. As he made his way past the Fat Lady portrait, he hoped that the Gryffindor students climbing into the opening in the wall, headed into their common room, didn't take notice of him. He figured it might be difficult to explain to the students why he was off to visit Professor Granger in the evening. While he knew his and Hermione's reasons for meeting were purely innocent, he was certain that the students would be keen on finding the most scandalous explanation.

"Hey George," Hermione greeted him at her door. She motioned for George to join her in her flat and closed the door behind him. A small fire was lit in Hermione's fireplace and soft music played in the background. Hermione flopped onto her couch, tucking her legs beneath her. George found a comfortable spot on the other end of the couch and pulled out his new copy of _Achievements in Charming _from his satchel. Based on the texts and parchments already strewn on Hermione's coffee table, he figured that she wanted to do some work. The pair read in silence for the evening, only occasionally disturbing the stillness to interject comments or ask questions. George enjoyed the time he spent with Hermione, even though it was spent in quiet. When he left, the pair exchanged a quick hug; George was pleased that he had opted to spend the evening with his friend, rather than alone in his office.

"Night George,"

"Night Mione,"

"I'll see you tomorrow. Take care,"

George responded to his Hermione's farewell and turned and gave a quick wave as he left her flat. As he made his way down the corridors, passing the Fat Lady portrait and finding his way to his quarters, George found that he was already looking forward to the next time he would be able to spend time with the pretty brunette.

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! _


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Having people read makes writing so much more enjoyable. Once again, not mine – JK's!_

The weeks leading up to Hermione's birthday celebration passed quickly. George had been busier as a professor than he ever had been working in his shop. Between preparing lessons, assisting students, marking essays, running Quidditch practices, and working on Hermione's present, he scarcely had a moment to himself. Every night, he went to bed so tired that sleep was able to come naturally. It would have been easy for George to complain about the hard, demanding work, but he couldn't; he soon found that he loved being a professor. The few students that acted foolishly in classes were outweighed by the number that paid him respect and were clearly interested in learning about Charms. The excitement on the faces of his students as they mastered Vanishing Charms, Colour-change Charms, and other aspects of the curricula always made George smile and helped him realize that difficulty of his job was worth it for the sake of his students.

The night before Hermione's birthday celebration, George said goodbye to a group of students as they left his office. It turned out that Hermione had been correct when she had told him that he could expect students coming by his office for extra help. A number of his fourth year Hufflepuffs had timidly knocked on his door earlier in the evening looking for assistance on perfecting the Summoning Charm and George was willing to oblige. He only had a few minor tweaks left to complete Hermione's present and, as they were heading into the weekend, didn't have any lesson plans to finalize.

"Thanks for the help, Professor W," One of his Hufflepuff students called as George let the youngsters out of his quarters.

"Thanks for giving up your Friday," Another added earnestly.

"Not a problem, Will," George smiled in return as the rest of the youngsters waved goodbye. It had taken the better part of the evening for all the students to master the charm, but, by the time they left, all were able to skillfully summon objects from across George's office. "Any time you guys need help, you know my door is always open….and behave yourself this weekend!" George called with a chuckle to the retreating students. He knew that the first Hogmeade trip was that weekend and he remembered the trouble that used to always happen on such trips while he was at school; trouble, he had to acknowledge, of which he was generally in the midst.

After the last of the students left, George pulled Hermione's present off the top of one of his bookshelves. He placed it caringly on his desk and sunk into the large, armed chair. Despite his eagerness to head to bed and start his night's sleep, he wanted to finish the present before he did. It was after midnight when George finally put his office light's out and slunk into his room. He practically crashed into his bed and was asleep almost instantaneously.

-o-O-o-

George hesitantly entered Professor Slughorn's lavish sixth-floor office for Hermione's party. The impressive room was finely decorated. Burgundy curtains hung on the walls and on either side of the ceiling-height, massive stone fireplace. Professor Slughorn clearly had a love of knickknacks, as the room was cluttered with tiny figurines, tribal masks, pictures, souvenirs, painted dragon eggs, signed brooms, and other such memorabilia. It was crowded, but not messy. George liked the room; it had a certain bombastic personality, much like the professor to which it belonged. Most of the faculty was already there. Some of Slughorn's favourite students were acting as caterers. They were wearing matching, dark red vests and carrying trays of appetizers or champagne, which they would offer to the guests. George placed Hermione's present on an ornate table. The table housed many figurines, including, amusingly, life-like ivory elephant miniatures which charged at each other across the surface, butting heads ferociously.

George surveyed the room, noting his colleagues in their finery. He was glad that he had put on a dark tie over his pale blue, dress shirt; everyone else was dressed up as well. Other than a large, bright red banner taking up one wall of the octagon-shaped room and garishly proclaiming "Happy Birthday Hermione" in scrawling white italics, everything about the celebration aiming for classy. George easily spotted Professor Slughorn. He was in the middle of the room, clad in his fanciest dress robes, speaking loudly, surrounded by a number of professors who were respectfully listening to his stories. It was obvious that the older man was in his element. Hermione was one of the professors standing next to Slughorn. The Potions professor seemed to be addressing most of his speech towards the young brunette.

"Happy Birthday, Hermione," George waited until Slughorn finished his story about a former student responsible for the Bulgarian Magic reformation to greet his friend. Hermione excused herself from the conversation to give George a hug.

"Thanks for coming, George,"

"I wouldn't miss it, Mione. You look lovely by the way," George complimented appreciatively. Hermione was wearing a simple, vintage, grey cocktail dress that suited her perfectly and looked sufficiently formal for the affair and yet charmingly whimsical at the same time. The sleeveless dress was tight through the bodice until it jutted out over Hermione's hips, where the hem came down to just above her knees. The fullness of the skirt gave her a bell-like shape, but still highlighted her slender figure. The neck line was high enough to be modest, but low enough to reveal Hermione's pronounced collarbones. Somehow the soft grey colour of the dress managed to look sweet rather than dour. She wore her honey-brown locks in smooth curls over her shoulders and her bangs were swept to the side, exposing her large, brown eyes to a greater extent than that to which George was accustomed. As a result of her lofty, bright pink heels, she was much closer in height to George than normal. Her accessories were minimal; the look was completed with only a long strand of small pearls which hung in three different sized loops around her neck.

"Thank you George" – Hermione grinned – "I was going for an Audrey Hepburn look….Oh, I supposed you don't know who that is…never mind…" She responded to his blank stare. "Er, you look very handsome."

"Thanks…are you allowed to sit with me for a bit?" George asked. He grabbed two glasses of champagne off a passing tray and handing one to Hermione.

"Yah, I suppose that's ok. Besides, my shoes are starting to kill me." She laughed, alternating her weight between her feet. The pair made their way to one of the plush, burgundy velvet couches situated around the sides of the large room. George sat at one end, nodding at Hagrid, who was taking up the better part of an adjacent, identical couch.

"I had no idea you were such a star, Hermione. It looks as if everyone showed up for your party," George teased.

"Oh, that's not true…" Hermione mumbled embarrassed. "People are just interested in getting together…it's not really about me…"

Looking around the room, however, George realized that he was likely correct in his statement: the entire faculty appeared to be grouped in Slughorn's office. Luna had taken Hermione's spot next to Slughorn. The Potions Professor was talking loudly about his newest favourite students while the young blonde nodded politely. She was dressed in a short, vibrant yellow dress which had a skirt that floated widely out around her legs, supported by a matching yellow crinoline. The dress appeared to be strapless, but it was difficult to tell, as Luna had paired it with an equally vivid orange, knit cardigan with fat, round, blue buttons. The many bright colours should have clashed foolishly, but they perfectly suited easygoing, dreamy girl, looking more quirky than silly as a result. Luna's long, blond hair was piled on the top of her head in a large, messy knot. Neville, dressed smartly in a charcoal grey suit over a light green, button-down top, was standing unnecessarily close to the young woman with a huge, proud grin on his face. He was staring fondly at his companion. Professor McGonagall was in another corner of the room, talking to Professors Higgs and Doctel. McGonagall had even opted for an outfit other than her Hogwarts robes; admittedly, her long-sleeved, black dress was almost identical to her usually present robes. Fiona looked stunning in a backless, ivory dress and teetering, beige stilettos.

After George and Hermione had chatted for only several minutes, Slughorn loudly cleared his throat to catch the attention of those gathered.

"Hmm, hmm. Attention everyone," He announced once the room was quiet. "Dinner is about to be served." All the professors claimed spots around the large, round table that was set up towards one side of Slughorn's vast office. George found himself seated between Neville and Fiona. He had hoped to end up next to Hermione, but Slughorn had eagerly ushered her to a spot beside him.

The sturdy, oak table was exquisite; Slughorn had used his best fineries for Hermione's party. Tall, bronze candle holders supporting lit white candles adorned the middle of the table, essentially blocking the view of those directly opposite him from George. Plates of fine China etched with gold in a pattern of leaves were at each setting. Heavy, engraved silver cutlery – including more forks than George assumed were necessary – sat on either side of the plates. The student servers were making rounds of the table to fill the professors' glasses with wines of both white and red. George thanked a young girl he recognized as a Ravenclaw fifth year when she filled his glass. He took a timid sip, unsure if he should be drinking alcohol around students, and immediately realized that the wine was richer and, most likely, more expensive than any wine he had ever before tasted.

"Thank you all for coming," Slughorn continued in a rather self-important tone. "It's so lovely that you were all willing to gather here to celebrate the birthday of our dear Miss Granger." Slughorn reached down to pat Hermione on her shoulder. After he finished his welcome, Slughorn sat down and the students began to bring out trays of food. George was shocked at the extravagance of the feast. Soon his plate was covered with delicacies: ham, beef, bread, roasted zucchini, squashes, Yorkshire puddings, and crystallized pineapple. As a student refilled his wine glass, George glanced at Hermione. She was grinning and chatting animatedly with Slughorn and McGonagall. George noted, contently, that his friend wasn't upset at the extensive effort the kitchen elves had obviously made in preparing her birthday feast.

"So how do you like Hogwarts?" Fiona interrupted George mid-bite.

"Ah, er," George stammered after quickly swallowing his food. "It's pretty great. I did come to school here, so I already knew what to expect."

"That's nice," Fiona replied in the clipped tone with which she generally spoke. Her voice failed to betray any inflection to indicate that she actually meant what she said.

"What about you?" George asked, realizing that returning her question would be polite. "This is your first year here, right?"

"Yes, it is" – She intoned – "It's alright. Teaching Transfiguration has always been my dream. I am glad I am finally able to do that."

"That's great. I think you'll like Hogwarts. It's a great school," George spoke earnestly, always prepared to defend his school.

"I'm sure it is…What is it people do around her for enjoyment's sake around these parts?" Fiona asked and George questioned whether he sensed a trace of condescension in her tone.

"Er, well, Hogsmeade has some lovely shops." George commented feebly, knowing that the sleepy village was not exactly bustling.

"Oh well, you'll have to show me around sometime." Fiona told him with a sly smile. George nodded. He got the sense his new colleague wasn't the type of woman who was used to having her requests declined. As they spoke, it occurred to George that it was the first real conversation he had shared with his comely co-worker. There was more to Fiona than he had initially realized. She was well-travelled and well-educated, having spent time studying or teaching in Greece, Poland, Ireland and even the Americas. George wondered if she looked down on him for having scarcely left the United Kingdom. He was sure she wouldn't be interested in stories from the vacation his family had taken to Egypt while he was a teenager.

After dinner was completed, most of the students dutifully started clearing away the dirty dishes, while several others brought out smaller, matching dessert plates. George wasn't sure how Slughorn was able to convince so many students to give up their Saturday evenings – especially the night before a Hogsmeade trip – but wasn't too bothered; it was rather nice to be waited on for a change. As two seventh years carried a large skillfully iced cake emblazoned with "Happy Birthday Hermione," Slughorn rose, once again, to say a few words about how specialness of the younger professor.

"And that is why we are so fortunate to have you here, as Professor of History of Magic and Muggle Studies," The red-faced, finely dressed professor finished his remarks with a flourish of his hand. "And now let's join together in a song to celebrate Hermione." Professor Slughorn waved his hands back and forth as if directing an orchestra. No one present knew the words of the song that Slughorn had opted for, so he completed the tune on his own in his rich baritone. George smiled generously at the older man's production. Slughorn could be a little over the top, but he always meant well. Hermione, George noticed, was grinning widely. She was clearly bemused by the attention, but it was evident that she was very fond of her former professor and current colleague.

"Here you are, Professor Weasley," One of the Slughorn's student helpers passed George a piece of chocolate cake.

"Oh, thank you Lexi," George told the young Gryffindor seeker. "It's so lovely of you to help out."

"Err…" The little, blonde girl looked uncomfortable with George's praise, but she dutifully nodded before disappearing behind a burgundy curtain that George assumed led to a kitchen area.

"How you doing tonight, Neville?" George turned to his companion on his other side, noting that his friend was staring idly at the cake on his plate while Luna was engaged in conversation with Professor Aisling on her other side.

"Oh er" – Neville stuttered, quickly regaining awareness from his daydream – "I'm good."

"Eh, that's good," George smiled knowingly, recalling how he had noticed Neville and Luna standing close earlier in the evening. "Hey mate," He asked, lowering his voice so that Luna wouldn't be able to overhear his comment from her near vantage point beside Neville. Fortunately, the girl seemed to be lost in her conversation with the Professor of Divination. "Are you and Luna here together? It looked to me as if you might be,"

Neville nodded proudly and eagerly in response to George's question: "Yup, I asked her today to go with me and she said yes," He gushed excitedly.

"That's fantastic mate," George told his friend earnestly. He didn't know what going to an event like Hermione's birthday together actually meant, but he didn't want to spoil Neville's obvious enthusiasm by asking for clarification.

-o-O-o-

Once dessert was over, George was surprised at how quickly Slughorn's office emptied. Soon only the younger professors and Slughorn and Hagrid remained. He sipped his after-dinner tea and glanced around the room. Hagrid and Slughorn were tasting wine from several different bottles, Neville and Luna were sitting very close on one of Slughorn's many couches, and Terence and Fiona were talking off to the side of the room. George noticed that Hermione was finally by herself. Grabbing her present on off the table he had left it on, George wandered across the room, sinking into the couch next to Hermione.

"Hey, Birthday Girl" – George joked – "I got you a little something."

"Oh George, that's so sweet. You didn't have to get me anything," Hermione smiled.

"It's really nothing, Mione," George said quietly, hoping she wouldn't have too high expectations for his gift. He handed his friend the hastily wrapped package.

"Oh George, this is just lovely," Hermione breathed pulling the gift out of its wrapping paper. In her hands was a midsized, dark wooden box. The outside of the box was engraved with an exaggerated bark-like pattern. Hermione carefully opened the box, revealing the inside. It was lined with dark, luxurious purple velvet. On a small shelf created when the lid was opened, a tiny, porcelain ballerina stood, mid pirouette.

"It's a jewelry box," George explained, showing her the compartments hidden in the velvet. The compartments were bewitched so that they were larger than would appear to be spatially possible. "I know it's kind of silly and girly, but I hope you like it."

"I love it George, it's gorgeous. I have literally been keeping all my jewelry in a cardboard box, so this is perfect."

"Do you have your wand?" George asked, trying not to display how pleased he was that Hermione liked his present. The brunette produced her wand from a hidden pocket in a fold of her dress. George instructed her to tap the ballerina with her wand. Upon doing so, the tiny figurine came to life and danced in a series of leaps and pirouettes across the shelf of the jewelry box. Joyful, tinkling music emanated from the wooden box.

"Oh George, I love this." Hermione sighed.

"I designed it so that it plays music that the listener will want to hear. So if you're having a bad day, it will play something to cheer you up. Or if you want to relax, it will play something to help you relax, and so on…." George concluded quietly, noting that his friend had a large smile playing across her face, obviously enjoying the music the enchanted box had chosen.

"George this is lovely, thank you so much," Hermione lifted the present off her lap and placed it on the couch next to her in order to lean over and give George a snug embrace. She was warm in his arms and her hair smelt fresh and fragrant. George tried not to feel disappointed when Hermione broke the hug after far too early for George's liking.

"Oi, are we exchanging presents now?" Terence broke the pair's moment, striding across the room and proclaiming loudly: "I also got you something Mione." The young man reached into the inside-pocket of his suit jacket and handed Hermione a necklace. Hermione turned the trinket over in her hand to take a better look at it. From his spot beside her, George could easily see that the piece boasted an impressive, deep blue stone hanging securely from a delicate gold chain.

"Oh er, this is very unexpected. Thank you very much Terry," Hermione whispered. So some reason, George got the sense that she was rather uncomfortable with the gesture.

"It was my great-grandmother's" – Terence commented self-importantly – "Her birthday was also in September. Put it on Hermione,"

"Oh er," Hermione awkwardly fingered the strand of pearls already hanging from her neck. "I'll wear it another time…" She finished lamely and gently placed the necklace in one of the hidden drawers of George's jewelry box. "It's so lovely, Terry. Thank you." Hermione stood and gave her colleague a quick hug.

-o-O-o-

For the remainder of the evening, George noticed that Hermione didn't seem as relaxed as normal. Her jaw seemed to be set rather resolutely and her lips were slightly pursed. She was quieter than she had been earlier. Sooner than George would have expected for a party, the guests started saying goodbye to each other and Slughorn showed them out. After he said goodnight and thanked their host, George wandered out of the office and into the sixth-floor corridor. Looking down the corridor ahead of him, he noticed Hermione walking slowly, gingerly stepping in her high heels, her arms filled with presents. George quickened his pace and easily overtook his friend.

"Hey Mione," He said resting his hand on her back, "Want a hand with those?" Hermione nodded and George took several of the presents. "Hey, you ok?" George asked tentatively, worried about offending his friend. Hermione, however, didn't seem bothered by his question. She shook her head in response, her jaw slightly clenched. "Do you want me to come over for a bit?" He asked hopefully. Hermione nodded. Silently, the pair made their way to Hermione's living quarters.

_Author's Note: I don't particularly care for the nickname Mione either, but it makes more sense to say, since Hermione seems like a mouthful. Thanks again for reading! _


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven **

_Author's Note: Not mine – JK's. Thanks so much to all who are reading and all who have left comments! Such an encouragement. [P.s. Happy Thanksgiving to any fellow Canadians] _

George took Hermione's gifts off her hands in order to allow his friend to access her wand. Once Hermione found her wand in the folds of her dress, she tapped the free standing suit of armor, causing the doorway to her flat to swing open.

"Would you care for some tea, George?" Hermione asked once they were in her office.

"Yah, if you don't mind, that would be great, Mione," George replied, setting Hermione's presents on her desk. As Hermione disappeared into her kitchenette, George settled into her couch that was beginning to become familiar to him. Eventually Hermione emerged for the kitchenette – still in her grey dress and pink pumps – carrying a wicker tray containing tea cups, a bowl of sugar, and a small carton of milk.

"Here you are," Hermione placed the tray on the coffee table and joined George on the couch. After preparing one of the mugs of tea to her liking she leaned back against the couch, curling her legs beneath her and self-consciously spreading her skirt over her legs, careful not to needlessly expose herself.

"Thanks Mione," George picked up the other mug, drinking it without milk or sugar; the way he preferred his tea. A quick glance at Hermione failed to decisively indicate to George whether he should introduce the topic her obvious discomfort from earlier. He didn't want to overstep any boundaries or increase her frustrations, but he had gotten the sense that his friend wished to speak about it with someone. "Er, Mione…how are you doing? You seemed off earlier," George commented timidly, deciding that his friend's need to talk likely trumped other related concerns. Hermione stared at him with wide eyes and slight grimace, but she seemed receptive to the conversation as she didn't shy away from talking about it.

"Er, Yah," Hermione muttered. "Ter-er, Professor Higg's gift kind of threw me for a loop."

"Why's that?" George asked. Initially Hermione responded with silence while a slight flush arose on her cheeks. Eventually she cleared her throat and broke her eye contact with George:

"Erm, well….it's terribly immature…but…Terry and I we were involved off and on for the last few years." The way Hermione nursed her words made George wonder if their relationship had been more physical than emotional.

"Involved?" He questioned, hoping for clarification.

"Well…you know…nothing special…just…" Hermione skirted the inquiry, bobbing her head furtively and forming her mouth into an informative grimace, leading George to understand that his initial assumption had been correct.

"And now?" George asked and placed his mug on Hermione's coffee table. He tried to move nonchalantly and hoped his voice didn't sound too anticipatory at her response; he was surprised to find just how invested he was in her potential answer.

"Er, we left it up in the air at the start of last summer. But it's pretty much done now….Terry…well…he doesn't care too much for…commitment…he certainly didn't try to hide that…." She faltered. "We had it out a bit a while back. He was pretty clear that there's nothing going on between us anymore…that was actually on the first day back…hence my misbehaving on your first night here at the Hog's Head…" Her sentence faded into nothingness.

"I'm sorry, Mione." George whispered earnestly. His mind drifted back to his first night and he remembered what had gone unspoken between Luna and Hermione, knowing now that they must have been referring to a row between Terence and Hermione.

"Meh, don't be. It's really not so bad. Terry and I were never anything special" – She reiterated with a dismissive wave of her hand – "Probably for the best it's over. Rejection…is…is…rubbish though." Despite Hermione's attempt at an easygoing tone and her insistence on unhurt feelings, her large brown eyes were clearly wrestling with the tears beginning to build behind them. Her words began to come faster: "And the entire time we were together, he never really gave me anything or made me feel special…and it's silly I know….but for him to give me such a gorgeous and important necklace now that we're no longer involved, it just made me a little mental." George groaned at Hermione's description. He easily recognized the way his colleague was stringing along his friend. It was a tactic often employed by some of his old Quidditch teammates. George placed a firm but gentle hand on Hermione's bare shoulder.

"Awe, Mione. Get over here." George motioned to the brunette to move closer to him. George knew words wouldn't help comfort his friend, but figured he could at least supply a presence. Hermione carefully shuffled along the couch, mindful of her skirt. George looped his arms around her and lifted her into the crook created by his crossed legs. "You are aware that you're amazing, right? And if Terence isn't seeing that it's his loss. He's the git here." George emphasized the other man's name in a ridiculous fashion, hoping to make the Defence against the Dark Arts Professor sound not worthwhile. George shook his head at the expense of the other man; he knew Hermione was the type of girl one should fight for, not cast aside.

"Ugh" – Hermione sighed – "I'm being so silly."

"No you're not. Stop saying that."

"I'm acting so immaturely."

"Hermione, keep in mind you've only just turned twenty-six. You're hardly acting inappropriately for your age, you're still a young'un," George smiled jovially, hoping his comment reassured his friend.

"Ugh," Hermione groaned. "Yes I am…I'm supposed to be an adult. Look at Ginny, I bet she never gets weepy over a stupid boy,"

"Ginny's hardly the best example" – George strained to prevent himself from chuckling at Hermione's arguably immature choice of wording – "Just because you're not an old fogy before your time like Ginny or Harry doesn't mean you're not an adult…and besides, I would say that you still are allowed a few years to be as silly and juvenile as you'd like…not that you're being silly or juvenile." George quickly backtracked on his potentially inflammatory comment.

"Yah, I am. It's stupid because I'm really that upset about Terry….I don't really miss being with him."

"Yah?"

"It-it's…I…er," Hermione stuttered. George placed his hand on the back of her head and stroked her hair. "I probably just shouldn't have been shagging a co-worker," She groaned, guiltily, her eyes downcast.

"You don't have to explain yourself, Mione. It's an occupational hazard."

"Thanks George." Hermione let out a quick giggle at George's description of her situation. The sound of Hermione's giggle prompted George to release a chuckle of his own. He stared affectionately at the brunette in his arms, softly brushing aside a few of her curls which had strayed over her face. "I think I just needed to have that out."

"No problem." George meant it. Sitting with and comforting Hermione, he had to admit, was not the most horrible way to spend a Saturday evening. The pair sat quietly. Hermione nestled closer into George's broad chest while the red head let his strong arms embrace her, hoping that his presence was helping to lift her spirits. "Hey Mione?" George asked. He wasn't pleased to be interrupting their intimate moment, but he had thought of an idea that might help cheer up his friend. "It's hardly past nine. Did you want to get off campus for a bit?"

"Ahh," Hermione hesitated, evidently taken aback by George's suggestion. "Are we allowed to?"

"I don't see why not. It's not as if McGonagall can give us detention or anything." George smiled. Hermione giggled at his observation, but still seemed hesitant; perhaps she was still concerned about the prospect of being expelled.

"I suppose so. I could do for a change of scenery." She finally admitted

"Brilliant,"

Hermione mentioned something about leaving her dishes for later and picked up an oversized, purple cardigan that had been resting on the back of the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. She didn't bother changing her dress or her shoes though, so George didn't suggest swinging by his place so he could take off his stuffy shirt and tie. After the pair left her living quarters, George led Hermione to one of his most familiar tunnels to Hogsmeade; one nearest to the Gryffindor common room.

"Oh bloody hell. I should have changed my shoes," Hermione muttered after George had swung open a portrait, revealing a dirt-lined passageway. Hermione slipped off her pink heels and held them in one hand. "Ready to go?" She asked George expectantly.

"Er, you probably don't want to walk this in bare feet, Mione," He mentioned, knowing the likelihood of the passageways to be paved with sharp objects or small bugs or even rodents.

"I'm sure it's fine,"

"Ah…If you want, I-I could piggyback you," George stammered. He intentionally avoided looking at Hermione's skirt, realizing that it was short enough to make a piggyback potentially inappropriate.

"Oh, ya, that would help. My feet are actually really sore," Hermione replied gamely, seemingly not sharing any of George's inhibitions. George crouched down while Hermione, still holding both her shoes, wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Ready?" George asked.

"Yup," Hermione held on securely while George stood up. George tried not to pay too much attention to the way that she entwined her legs around his waist. "I think that everyone should get the chance to be carried around on their birthday," Hermione joked as George entered the passageway, which was, fortunately, large enough so that Hermione's head wasn't in any danger of brushing against the dirt ceiling.

"I bet you feel like just a super star, don't you Granger," George replied, hoping that using her last name would make him less aware of her small, but noticeable, breasts pressed into his back and the fact that her skirt had largely ridden up, exposing most of her pale thighs. George wasn't sure how to get a sufficient grip on Hermione that wouldn't involve resting his hands underneath her bare legs. Eventually he looped his arms over the crook created by Hermione's knees in order to jostle her position on his back, settling her into a more comfortable spot. Soon he was able to fall into an easy pace. Hermione wasn't heavy and George had grown increasingly strapping ever since his old men's league Quidditch team had introduced strength training to their practice regiment. Compared to running sprints with burdensome weight packs, carrying Hermione at a gentle pace along the level ground was hardly strenuous. Other than the sharp points of her stiletto heels occasionally poking him in the chest, George was not uncomfortable.

"Whoa boy," Hermione teased once they reached the end of the tunnel, giggling at her insinuation that George was a pack animal.

"Thanks, Mione. I'm glad to know that's how you feel about me." George replied bending his knees until Hermione's feet came into contact with the ground. She straightened out her skirt and rested her hand on George's shoulder, finding the necessary balance to put on her shoes again. Once again, she looked the part of a pretty young woman who had dressed up for her birthday. George was sure that he looked significantly more disheveled, but, then again, he wasn't the one who had been carried the length of the tunnel. George pushed open the wooden doors in front of them and the pair emerged into a small, deserted shed towards the edge of the wizard village.

"Hang on, Mione," George instructed, offering his friend his hand. "We're not staying in Hogsmeade."

"Oh really?" Hermione questioned. She sounded intrigued, but eagerly accepted George's hand, holding on with both of hers. George wrapped his arm over her shoulders. The pair disappeared from the shed almost as quickly as they had entered.

-o-O-o-

"Where are we?" Hermione inquired as soon as they rematerialized onto an empty street.

"Dufftown," George explained, referring to the Muggle town closest to Hogsmeade.

"And why are we here?" Hermione asked skeptically. The small Muggle town didn't have much more to offer than the sleepy wizard village which they had just left.

"Because I have something in mind," George replied cryptically. He rested his hand on the small of Hermione's back and led her along the sidewalk of the quiet town. The occasional Muggles they passed didn't seem to take any notice of the overdressed pair. As they walked, George glanced into the few open shops and restaurants. He liked the slight differences in Muggle town: the florescent lights which lit the shops and the streets, the passing vehicles, the bizarreness of certain Muggle fashions on some of the evening wanderers, the blinking colours of the traffic lights. After they had wandered for a short amount of time, George drew his friend to a halt.

"We're here," He announced.

"Dufftown Bowl-er-rama?" Hermione read the sign on the building quizzically. "George, are you taking me bowling?" She exclaimed excitedly.

"Yah. Have you been?" George asked, knowing that the activity was not well-known in the wizard community.

"Obviously" – Hermione laughed and patted the pocket of her skirt – "Now I understand why you told me to bring a pair of socks."

George opened the door and the pair entered the late-night bowling alley. He was glad the place still existed. It was just as deserted as it used to be when he and his twin would bring girls to it while they had been at Hogwarts. Only a few groups of teenagers were at the alley, evidently taking advantage of the only hangout open later in the evening in quiet town. The place still boasted the same cheesy, upbeat music, and unnecessary flashes of coloured lights. George followed Hermione into the establishment, where they wandered up to the front desk. Fortunately, George generally kept a bit of muggle money in his wallet. He handed the bowling attendant several pieces of the paper currency so that he and Hermione could rent the appropriate shoes. The claimed an alley towards the end, allowing them a bit of privacy, and made their way to the circle of plastic chairs to change their footwear.

"Ladies first," George offered.

"Ready to get beaten?" Hermione grinned, carefully selecting the perfect ball. With one hand held behind her to prevent her dress from flying up, Hermione expertly rolled the ball down the alley. The perfection of her bent over figure, even while partially obstructed by her billowing skirt, didn't go unnoticed by George. He tried to focus instead on the pins at the end of the alley. Hermione jumped up when the single roll crashed over all five. "Strike," She proclaimed excitedly. George stood and eagerly slapped palms in celebration with his grinning friend when she returned to their seats.

"Well done, Mione. Looks like I might be in tougher here than I expected."

"No hard feelings, George." Hermione said with mock-sympathy. "I used to bowl all the time. It was kind of a family tradition."

George groaned when his bowl only knocked down two of the end pins: "Ugh, I didn't bring you here to have you show me up, Mione," He called over his shoulder while selecting his next ball.

"Just embrace it, George." Hermione chuckled from her perched spot on one of the alley's plastic chairs. As George rolled his next ball – one straight into the gutter – he couldn't help smile at the fun that he was having with Hermione. His friend had brightened considerably since they had left the castle. The incident from earlier and the discouragement elicited by Terence's gift seemed to be behind her. Several times between shots George would look over his shoulder at her, smiling to see a bright grin playing on her face, her toe tapping rhythmically in time with the buoyant music that filled the alley. As their match continued George felt more and more confident that his choice of activity had been a good one.

"Nice shot," George told her, picking up a ball after Hermione had finished off a spare.

"Thanks George," She replied as she passed him on her way to the seats, making way for George to roll his ball. "Thanks for taking me here. This is exactly what I needed…the opportunity to knock stuff over," She finished with a laugh, settling into one of the chairs. "Remember, focus right down the middle," She playfully coached George on his bowling technique.

"Don't worry, Mione. I got this," George joked nonchalantly in return. Secretly, he was aiming very carefully, hoping to impress his companion. When his ball knocked down all the pins, George only let a small fist pump betray how excited he actually was. The strike was necessary for maintaining any sort of pace with Hermione's score.

"Lovely Weasley," Hermione whistled, clapping her hands delightedly at the shot.

"Meh, no big deal," George returned with a grin. "All credit goes to your expert teaching I'm sure."

The pair finished their game, laughing and joking between shots. After Hermione finished her tenth frame with a spare followed by a strike, George bounded out of his chair and scoped his friend into a hug. He knew he was overacting, that the game didn't warrant such an exuberant response, but it didn't bother him. Spinning a startled Hermione around, he let out a quick whoop of excitment.

"Nice game, Mione," He said, setting her on her feet.

"Er, thanks George. I wish someone would celebrate like this with me for everything I do."

"Whatever," George shrugged. "A fine display of bowling prowess like that deserves a bit of a celebration." Hermione laughed and sat down to tally up their final scores.

"Oh bloody," George glanced over her shoulder at the scores. "You beat me by over seventy points. That is not impressive for me." He chuckled.

"Want to play another?" Hermione asked, clearly restraining herself from teasing George about his poor tally.

"I don't know, will you promise to go easier this time?"

"No guarantees Weasley."

"What if you bowl with your left hand?"

"You wouldn't feel good about yourself if you beat me that way," Hermione cleverly and rightly observed. George pretended to deliberate about playing another before admitting that he would like an additional game. Having Hermione beat him so soundly was hardly an ego boost, but he was having too much fun to care and Hermione's lively smile more than made up for losing.

-o-O-o-

Midway through their fourth game, the teenage attendant at the alley slyly approached George and Hermione.

"We're closing now," The youth cautiously interrupted the pair.

"Really?" George quickly glanced around the alley, shocked to realize that he and Hermione were the only bowlers left in the building. Another attendant was already sweeping the empty lanes. "Er, sorry mate. We'll clear out." George and Hermione quickly changed their shoes and made their way into the chilly darkness that had subsided over the town.

"That was really fun. Thanks George," Hermione said, pulling her large purple cardigan tightly around her torso to ward off the cold.

"Are you sure you're not only saying that because you beat me every game?" George chuckled. He had managed to finish within forty points in their third game, but he sensed that Hermione wasn't putting in a full effort; she had bested him handily in their first two matches.

"That certain didn't hurt," Hermione replied. The darkness did nothing to prevent her smile from illuminating her face. George reached over and gave her a playful but soft push on the shoulder, careful not to upset her balance on her teetering pumps.

"I must say, I was impressed, Mione. You were a little star." He whistled appreciatively. The pair strolled off to find an empty street where they would be able to apparate back to Hogsmeade undetected. "Hey, I saw you talking to Luna earlier. Did she say anything about Neville? He told me they went to your party together." George mentioned, remembering his dessert-time conversation with the Herbology professor.

"Weasley, you're such a little gossip." Hermione playfully teased.

"Whatever, I know you're interested. Did Luna say anything?" George dismissed her observation and questioned eagerly.

"Yah, Luna mentioned that she and Neville were there together," Hermione replied happily. "What do we make of this?" She asked, demonstrating that she was just as invested in the gossip as George.

"We love it obviously,"

"I know. They really are just adorable together," The brunette responded with an uncharacteristically high-pitched giggle.

"Neville was so keen that Luna went with him," George chuckled, pointing Hermione down a deserted alleyway that they could use for apparating.

"So was Luna. She had me go over to her place before the party to help her pick out a dress." Hermione mentioned following George around the corner.

"I would not be surprised if they are off snogging somewhere right this very instance," George contemplated, a slyness arising in his tone.

"Is that really for us to consider, Weasley?" Hermione chided him, but her tone was lighthearted, indicating to George that she wasn't, in fact disapproving of his speculation.

"Erm, I don't see why they'd mind. They're probably too busy snogging to care about what we think," George grinned. "Here" – He offered Hermione his hand – "Ready to head back?" Hermione shook her head disapprovingly at George's assumptions, but accepted his arm, nevertheless.

"I am, and George" – Hermione turned and met his grin with an even larger one of her own – "I would bet that there is a considerable chance that Luna and Neville are snogging right as we speak." Before George was able to respond, his middle was tugged by an outside power as the familiar spinning sensation of appartion suddenly hit him; Hermione had, without his awareness, instigated their travel.

-o-O-o-

It had started raining rather heavily when George and Hermione had reappeared in Hogsmead. George rushed them to the nearest tunnel mouth while Hermione gamely kept up, even though her heels were not conducive to running. Once they had entered the passageway, one even less suitable for walking, George had hosted Hermione onto his back and started his way down the rough, uneven tunnel.

"I feel rather foolish sneaking into the castle so late," Hermione commented, her voice sweet and gentle in George's good ear.

"I'm sure it's not going to be a problem," George tightened his grip on Hermione's legs, concerned that she was slipping down his back.

"Yah…I guess as long as McGonagall doesn't know and disapprove, I don't particularly mind" – Hermione chuckled guiltily, clearly surprised by her own laissez faire attitude towards the rules – "I needed a night like tonight. I sometimes go for so long without leaving the castle or the grounds. It's nice to get away for a bit."

"Glad to help," George replied sincerely.

"You're brilliant," Hermione complemented, briefly rubbing his chest, following with a couple pats of gratitude.

George pushed aside a fourth floor mirror and he stepped into the Hogwarts' corridor with Hermione still holding securely onto his back. She released her grasp around his neck and slid down his back, allowing herself to land silently on the castle's floor. George started to walk Hermione back to her quarters even though she hadn't asked for his company. He took the fact that she didn't protest as silent acceptance of his accompaniment.

"It's so quiet at night," Hermione observed, looking around her, gathering images of the sleeping portraits, shadows created by the standing armors, and motionless hanging tapestries.

"I know you've snuck around the castle after hours, Mione. Don't pretend this is a first for you," George chided kindly.

"Yah, but every time I had a mission or something to accomplish, I never really paid attention to my surroundings or anyth-" Hermione stopped short, her comment interrupted by a quiet giggle. "Oi, who's there?" The brunette called into the darkness. Her question was met with muffled sounds. George noticed that one of the tapestries lining the corridor was rustling conspicuously. He pulled the drapery aside, revealing two students who had tried to use it as a hiding spot.

"Er, hi…Professor Granger, Professor Weasley," A boy George recognized as a seventh year Ravenclaw student stammered.

"Eric, Susan, what are you doing? Why are you out at this hour?" Hermione reprimanded, adopting her most disapproving tone. George fought a chuckle at the discovered students' expense; Hermione just sounded so much like an angry Professor McGonagall.

"I could ask you the same thing, couldn't I, Professor Granger," the young girl replied. Her voice wasn't cruel, but it wasn't, George though, sufficiently apologetic for a student who had just been caught after curfew by two professors. The girl was familiar; George knew she was in his sixth year Gryffindor/Hufflepuff class. He assumed she must be in Gryffindor as they were closest to that particular common room.

"Ahh," Hermione sighed. She shot George a quick look, conveying her concern that they had likewise been discovered rooming the castle at a suspicious hour. The Gryffindor Headmistress quickly composed herself: "Professor Weasley and I were just monitoring the halls. I suggest you two return to your common rooms and we shan't make a bigger matter of this than need be." George grinned inwardly at Hermione's cool steeliness; the woman chastising the two misbehaving students scarcely resembled his giggling, energetic bowling partner from earlier in the evening.

"You're awfully dressed up for monitoring halls, Professor Granger," Susan quipped in observation with a feigned innocence. George wasn't sure if she was being unnecessarily cheeky or if she merely had a familiar repartee with Hermione.

"How about I walk you back to Gryffindor, Susan" – Hermione suggested – "Do you mind seeing that Mr. Higgins finds his way back to Ravenclaw?" She inquired of George. George glanced at the teen and nodded. He tried to mask his disappointment that his evening with Hermione was forced to come to an end; he hadn't even gotten an opportunity to hug her goodnight. The instructors walked the students along the corridor until they reached the necessary fork in directions.

"See you later…er, goodnight to both of you," George wasn't sure of the appropriate farewell. Hermione waved goodbye and led Susan around the corner while he continued along the corridor with the young Ravenclaw.

"Say, are you any relation to Rebekah?" George asked, recognizing the familiar last name and the boy's similar Weasley-red hair. He hoped to break the palatable awkwardness of the silence; both were still visibly discomforted at having had their evenings disrupted by the other.

"Yah, she's my little sister." The teen mumbled.

"Solid keeper," George commented.

"Oh yah, she said she was playing for Gryffindor. This is her first year playing competitively," The youth brightened substantially at the topic of Quidditch.

"Do you play?"

"Yah, I play keeper for Ravenclaw. Captain the team too," Eric returned proudly.

"Brilliant. Good on you," George complimented his fostered upon companion. The two chatted about Quidditch until the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room was insight. "You good from here? Not going to cause any more trouble?" George asked, not sure to the extent to which he should reprimand the youth. He decided that the embarrassment suffered was sufficient, besides, he wasn't sure how much significance any rebuke regarding breaking rules coming from him would have.

"Don't worry, Professor Weasley," Eric assured him. George waved to the student as he hurried to the entrance of his common room.

George was pleased when he finally made it back to his own bedroom without any further interruptions. Hastily, he hung up his dress clothes and crawled into bed in only his blue boxer shorts. Despite his tiredness from the busy day and staying up late the previous night, sleep didn't come easy for George. Images from the evening paraded through his mind, his smile from earlier still remaining on his face. He considered his disappointment of being robbed his goodnight hug with Hermione. He pictured the way she had bounced with excitement after every strike, her heart-shaped face lit up with a bright smile, slight dimples etched into her cheeks, as she tried to contain the amount of joy displayed over a technically meaningless game. He thought of how he had carried her, twice, down the tunnels to and from Hogsmeade. Both times she had felt so warm against his back and was so good-natured about the humor of the situation. George chuckled softly to himself thinking of the way Hermione's demeanor had changed when they had encountered the rule-breaking students, how easily she had adopted her authoritarian tone, and how she had handled the situation with such kindness and ease. George thought of earlier in the evening, when Hermione had confided in him about her past relationship with Terence. He recalled the way her bottom lip tenderly quivered during her retelling: a bottom lip that he had never before realized looked so very kissable.

The more George thought of her, her deep brown eyes which were always filled with golden flakes, intelligence, and kindness, her pale pink lips, her smooth nut-brown curls, her ability to turn any topic into a clever conversation, her snug, grey dress and the way it accentuated her subtle curves, her obvious love for her profession and her students, the more he came to his final realization. He had always thought Hermione was nothing more than a dear friend, someone who could be constantly counted on and trusted. Now, however, he had to admit that there were feelings which existed on a deeper plane than his initial affection for his friend. Lying in his bed, George pulled his duvet snugly up to his neck and ran a hand through his short, bristly hair. Tacitly, he knew the feelings had existed for some time, but they could no longer go unacknowledged; he fancied Hermione.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve **

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! Not mine – JK's. P.s. Happy Columbus Day and any other national holidays I missed in my last post. _

The next morning George slunk into the Great Hall for breakfast, his heart beating at an accelerated rate at the prospect of seeing Hermione. He had stayed up late the previous night, jostling for a comfortable position in bed, twisting and turning throughout the night, wrestling with his duvet, struggling to figure out the proper way to act regarding his feelings for his colleague. While he knew that he fancied her as more than a friend, he assumed that she did not share his feelings. The instance he entered the hall, he noticed Hermione immediately, sitting at her normal spot, talking with an immensely grinning Luna. George mindlessly ran his hand through his hair and idly straightened his grey tee shirt, nervous about his impending interaction with his friend. He was concerned that Hermione would immediately realize that something was different in his demeanor and would be able to deduce what was causing his uneasiness. George wandered across the Great Hall intent on sitting next to Hermione. Before he was able to reach the empty spot next to his friend, his path was intercepted by Headmistress McGonagall.

"George, I trust you'll be available for chaperoning the Hogsmeade trip today." McGonagall told him with little else of a greeting.

"Er, sure, Professor McGonagall," George fumbled, taken aback by her instruction; he hadn't even considered that he would be expected to participate in the event.

"Excellent George. You will be waiting outside main entrance at 10:00 sharp," The tall, angular, imposing woman didn't phrase her comment as a question.

"See you then Professor McGonagall," George smiled, realizing that it was best for him to simply agree with the intimidating Headmistress. He glanced back at the spot next to Hermione, which was no longer empty; Professor Aisling had claimed it. Dejected, George took a spot at the back of instructors' table. He felt less discouraged, however, at the sight of the delicious, abundant breakfast awaiting him. Clearly, the kitchen had been informed to prepare a large meal for the students before their excursion.

-o-O-o-

The day was overcast and it was raining heavily, but that didn't seem to dampen the spirits of the students about the first Hogsmeade trip of the year. They all eagerly ran ahead of him to meet the transportation that would take them to the sleepy wizard village. As George exited the castle at its main entrance, he wished that he had brought an umbrella with him. He had cast a spell around him to prevent his clothes and hair from getting wet, but he still didn't enjoy the sensation of the large water droplets splashing against his face.

"George, come here!" A voice called behind him. He turned and saw Hermione hurrying to catch up with him. Hermione looked prepared for the rainy weather; she was carrying a purple plaid umbrella that matched the pattern on her wellingtons. "Here, you look like you're getting soaked," She noted, pulling him underneath her umbrella with her.

"It's-er, fine…er, um, thanks, Hermione," George stammered, inwardly chiding himself for his new-found awkwardness around his friend. He was generally quite smooth around girls he was interested in; the bumbling mannerisms were unexpected for him. To fit under the umbrella he had to walk with a slight hunch, but he didn't mind, as he liked the way their shoulders would brush against each other with a fair amount of frequency. George tried to ignore the tingling that affected his stomach each time their sides touched, but it was difficult.

"That's so sweet of you to chaperone the trip, George. Most professors prefer the day off," Hermione mentioned, kicking a puddle with her wellington with a youthful giggle as they strolled together towards the awaiting carriages.

"Er, yah, well. The least I can do," George replied, selectively withholding the fact that he hadn't known that his attendance was not mandatory.

"I'll see you there then?" Hermione asked, adjusting her direction towards one of the carriages.

"Sure thing," George sprinted to a transport that was not yet filled with students. The carriages were larger than the one he, Neville, Luna, and Hermione had taken into Hogsmeade. They were supported by large, wooden wheels and had solid roofs to ward off the rain. Each was tethered to two thestrals, but George assumed that a vast majority of the students couldn't see the gruesome beasts, as none seemed overly perturbed by the sinewy equines that were about to pull them into town.

"Hey Professor Weasley," A trio of fourth-year Gryffindors greeted George as he hopped into their buggy. George immediately recognized Chet Morris and Alan McKibbon, the Gryffindor beaters, but he couldn't place a name to the third boy, although he was a familiar face from his fourth year Gryffindor/Slytherin Charms class. The four made casual conversation – mostly discussing Quidditch – during the short trip to Hogsmeade.

A brief time after they boarded the carriages, they were in Hogsmeade. As he leapt out of his carriage, followed in succession by his companions, George wasn't entirely sure what his role as chaperone entailed. He settled on wandering around the village and keeping an eye open for any potential troublemaking: something, he was sure, he'd have little problem identifying. The town was primarily overrun with Hogwarts students: eagerly waiting in line at Honeydukes, coming and going in large groups into the Three Broomsticks, and self-consciously walking hand-in-hand into Madam Puddifoot's. George was pleased to see that the still-new Hogsmeade branch of Weasley Wizard Wheezes was crowded with students, eager to get their hands on the newest products. Fortunately, the students were showing few signs of mischief making; most were content to simply explore the town and its shops.

George turned the corner off Hogsmeade's main roads to monitor one of the side streets when he almost walked right into Professor Doctel.

"Oh Fiona…I'm so sorry," George said, embarrassed of his careless meandering. He had been swept away in thought and hadn't been paying proper attention to where he was going.

"Quite alight, Professor Weasley." Fiona replied haughtily. George wasn't sure if she was frustrated with his inability to walk properly, or if the condescending tone was the way she spoke normally. Fiona was dressed in chic rainwear. She had on high heeled, black boots that extended past her knees and a red garment that could best be described as a cape. A knit white cap sat jauntily on the back of her long, straight dark locks, seemingly serving no function other than the aesthetic.

"How are you enjoying Hogsmeade?" George hoped a polite conversation would help his colleague forget his carelessness.

"Oh well, it's quite lovely. Very dear." Fiona returned and George doubted that she was particularly enamored by the town. "I mean" – she clipped – "it's not Paris, New York, or Rome, but nor is it trying to be," She concluded with a tinkling chuckle. George didn't try to defend the sleepy village, but he felt that this coworker should have given it more credit; while not an exciting place, it was certainly a lovely spot to spend a day.

"I, er, could give you a tour if you would like." George offered. He knew he was supposed to be minding the students, but figured he could show his colleague around at the same time.

"Oh no, that's quite alright. I'm on my way to find shelter right now. How about you bring me here next weekend and give me the grand tour." George realized that Fiona was requesting his accompaniment, not asking for it. While he figured he had enough of strong, confident, women telling him what to do for one day, he, nevertheless agreed:

"Yah, I could do that."

"Excellent. I am available Friday night."

"Ok…well…meet after dinner Friday?"

"That sounds lovely, George," Fiona's way of speaking was never overly friendly, but a slight smile played across her angular features, causing George to speculate that an evening with his comely coworker might not be as boring or tedious as one might initial expect from her stoic demeanor.

"I'll see you then."

-o-O-o-

The two professors said their goodbyes and continued in opposite directions down the quiet street. George forced himself to pay better attention to where he was going and to survey the roadway for students, hoping not to find any misbehaving. As George passed one of the small Hogsmeade shops, through a bay window at the front, he noticed Hermione, sitting inside, reading a book and enjoying a beverage.

"Hi Hermione!" George exclaimed, entering the shop to the sounds of ringing chimes from his opening the door. Hermione looked up at his greeting.

"Oh, hey George. Come join me," She pushed out an empty seat from under the table for George to sit in. After ordering a tea from the server, George gingerly accepted the chair Hermione had offered.

"Mione, are you shirking on your chaperoning duties?" George tried to adopt a teasing voice, hoping that his friend was unable to detect his elevated heart rate and sweaty palms. He had been excited about the prospect of running into Hermione all day.

"We don't really have to do anything on a Hogsmeade trip. You know that right?" – Hermione replied with a grin – "There's nothing wrong with just resting with a book."

"Oh…I was not aware of that," George said with a tiny blush. "What are you reading?" He asked after the server brought his tea, noticing the cover of Hermione's book.

"Oh, just a book my mom recommended to me…._Bridget Jones's Diary…_I doubt you'd have read it…" Hermione placed her book back into her purse, "My mom's letters are mainly filled with suggestions of what Muggle authors I ought to be reading." Hermione took a sip of her cappuccino and George couldn't help but notice the way her pale pink lips caressed the rim of the mug. He knew that he had seen her wear the knit, ivory sweater before, but he had never before really taken note of the way it revealed the soft dip of her breasts or the way it hugged the curve of her torso.

"Ah, er, I d-didn't know you were still in contact with your parents." George's voice was husky as he forcefully pulled himself out of any daydreams associated with Hermione's figure.

"Yah, well, did you know that I went to find them in Australia?"

"No,"

"Yah" – Hermione volunteered while gently placing her mug on the café's plastic tablecloth – "The summer after I finished my schooling at Hogwarts. I took a trip there. Took an airplane and everything…like a Muggle would. Found my parents."

"How was that?" George asked, genuinely interested in Hermione's trip. He had never taken an airplane before, having only travelled by Ministry of Magic approved portkeys.

"Well, It wasn't easy," The gold in Hermione's eyes flashed more noticeably that usual. George got the sense that residual hurt from the trip still lingered within his friend. "My folks were pretty upset with me. I had altered their memories before the war" – Hermione started to explain until George's nods stopped her; he already knew the story of how Hermione had intervened to keep her parents safe – "Well, anyways, they weren't happy about what I did. But I suppose they understand it somewhat….they still live in Australia…I think that they really like it there. But I go and visit them whenever I get the chance…"

"That sounds tough," George commented sympathetically, realizing the strain that the estrangement with her parents must have caused his friend. He tentatively reached across the table and stroked Hermione's hand while it was still wrapped around her warm mug, hoping that his touch was not unwelcomed.

"Yah, it hasn't been the easiest." Hermione admitted, her deep brown eyes brightened, however, with her next remark: "It's been getting better though. I don't know if we'll ever be as close as we were when I was a kid, but it's definitely getting better…it's important for me that my parents are part of my life."

"I know what you mean…" George trailed off; conversations about parents always made him feel a little emotional.

"Is everything ok with you, George? In that regards, I mean…" Hermione faltered, but George nodded, indicating to his companion that he understood the substance of her question.

"It hasn't been the best either," He replied, a strain in his voice. George glanced around the café, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the intimacy of their conversation in such a public environment. The café was far from crowded and their seat next to the window was somewhat secluded, but there were a smattering of customers. The café's décor – the kitschy, flowery embellished tablecloths, the childish row of painted ducks circling the upper walls, the bright-coloured, bubbly lettering of the menu above the counter – seemed at odds with the weight of their conversation.

"We can talk about something else, George," Hermione kindly volunteered evidently having sensed his trepidation.

"No, it's alright….I suppose things with my family are fine. I guess we're just not as close as we once were…with…everything…not that we're not close…I guess I just don't see them as much as I used to…" George stammered. Hermione opened her mouth to reply when she was interrupted by a large, energetic group of students who had entered the café, intent on escaping the escalating downpour. The café exploded with noise when the excited Hogwarts students filled the establishment:

"Hey Professor Weasley,"

"Professor Granger,"

"Hi Professors,"

"Hey, it's Professor Granger and Professor Weasley!"

"What are you doing here?"

"What's a cappuccino?"

"Oh, hey everyone" Hermione received the students with a professional voice. George instinctively sat up straighter, realizing that he was leaning in closer towards Hermione than he would care for his students to notice.

"It's so nice to see you all at Hogsemade," He added, immediately feeling stupid about the remark he had directed towards the students. He was frustrated that the disturbance of the students meant that his conversation with Hermione was over; talking to Hermione – even when the topic was difficult – always made him feel better. George and Hermione sat mostly in silence while their student milled around them. Several first years shyly came up to their table to show off what they had got from Weasley Wizard Wheezes. George smiled at the sight of the familiar bright orange bags filled with some of his favourite products. He felt torn: but, his love of pranks and desire to share his joy over the products was outweighed by his feelings of professorial responsibility. He was sure that McGonagall would not approve of him giving advice to the first years on how to best utilize the mischief-making products. Fortunately, Hermione willingly stepped into the role of disciplinary.

"Now, I'm confident that I will not being see or hear of these items being used in the halls or in classes," She instructed, in turn, giving each of the youngsters a pointed look.

"Ok, Professor Granger." The students reluctantly agreed.

Soon Hermione glanced at her watch and realized that it was time to return to the carriages. She and George herded the students in the café back out into the rain. The students loudly proclaimed their disappointment at having to return to the castle. George remained silent – thinking that it best that he refrain from joining in with his student's complaints – but internally he was equally discouraged at his day coming to an end; he wished that he and Hermione could have stayed longer in the small café, sitting so close that their knees almost touched, discussing their lives, and drinking warm beverages.

_Author's Note: Sorry, just a short, filler chapter, but don't worry, we're building to the climax of the story! P.S. Don't be mad at me about the next few chapters…_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen **

_Author's Note: Thanks for Reading! Not Mine – JK's [Sorry that I'm taking longer to update. I've fallen a bit behind on this…I'm going to try to get caught up more the next few days]. _

The following week passed with little excitement. George had fallen into an unshakable routine: wake, breakfast, class, lunch, class, dinner, office, sleep. His days were busy with his work. He couldn't believe how keen a number of his students were. Often, George would be unable to escape his classroom to get to the Great Hall for lunch, as his classroom was a revolving door of students seeking extra help. He hadn't realized that students were so concerned with their schoolwork; few had seemed so diligent during his time as a student, or at least those with whom he had travelled had not.

Towards the end of the week, George was intercepted trying to leave his classroom for dinner by several girls from his second year Charms class.

"Oh, hi Lexi, Rebekah…girls…" George faltered, unable to remember the names of the remaining Gryffindor girls.

"Hey Professor Weasley!" Rebekah exclaimed. "Can you help us with Colour Change Charms?" She quickly requested.

"Er, you know you don't need to learn that particular skill just yet," George pointed out to the eager girls. He wasn't disappointed that the small group was interested in learning, but it had been a busy week and he was looking forward to resting during dinner.

"We were hoping to learn it now," Rebekah, who seemed to be the spokesperson for her group of friends, said with a smile and a shake of her long, bright red hair.

"Ok, come in girls." George allowed, letting the girls into his class room. He motioned to them to take chairs around one of the classroom's long tables. Out of one of the classroom's many cupboards, George located several smooth, coloured balls, roughly the size of billiard balls that the girls could for practicing the skill. After demonstrating by changing a red ball into a green ball several times, George watched the girls trying the charm, encouraging them as they managed to get their balls to change hues or offering advice when the objects remained a stubborn red. The girls giggled excitedly as they started to better master the spell.

"Nice, Lexi," He complimented the seeker, whose ball had finally taken on a bright, primary green shade. "Well done." George looked up at the sound of a slight tap on his door.

"Hey are you guys coming to dinner?" Hermione asked standing in the doorway.

"Oh, er, ah…hi Her-Professor Granger," George stammered, surprised at the sight of his friend and feeling suddenly awkward of having her appear in her particularly becoming eggplant purple dress. He looked at the ornate clock and saw that dinner would already be underway in the Great Hall. "Ok, guys, time to head out for dinner. You can come practice another time."

"Thank you Professor Weasley," The girls chorused in unison. Grabbing their bags, the young Gryffindors scampered out of the room to meet their classmates for dinner.

"What do you have going on here?" Hermione looked around the room at the experiment George had set up.

"Oh just some of the girls wanted to learn the Colour Change Charm."

"Oh yah, that's a popular one." Hermione smiled. "That's nice of you to stick around and help them out." She said softly, her eyes shining as she looked impressed with her friend's commitment.

"Thanks. I can't believe you were right about students wanting extra help. I had no idea that they cared so much about school," George replied.

"Are you sure that they really are here for help?" Hermione questioned with a mischievous chuckle. "Don't let this go to your head, but that particular group of girls may have been talking in class the other day that they find you quite fit."

"Smart girls," George returned Hermione's smile with tone of mock bragging but knowing that his cheeks had taken on a slight flush at finding out that he was the object of affection of the adolescents.

"Don't worry. I told them they can do better." Hermione laughed.

"No you didn't."

"No…none of my business, obviously." Hermione teasingly replied while George finished putting away the materials he had used for teaching.

"Ready to head the Hall?" He asked, closing the last cupboard door. Hermione nodded and the pair wandered off towards the Great Hall.

"Don't you take the shorter way?" Hermione asked when George noticeably led them down a corridor that would be mean a longer route to the Hall.

"Erm…no…I generally go this way…" George murmured, hoping that Hermione wouldn't press him on his decision; he never took the shorter way because that would mean having to walk past the fateful cite of his twin's death. "Er…if you don't mind…can we just continue down this hall?"

"Oh, George…of course." Hermione hastily exclaimed, obviously having guessed George's reservations about the alternative direction. "I'm exhausted. What a long week." She conspicuously changed the subject, much to George's relief; he too was tired and felt he lacked the strength needed for a serious conversation.

"Yah, no kidding. I can't believe it's only Thursday." He said with weariness in his tone.

"Me neither" – Hermione continued – "I'm really looking forward to this weekend. If you're free tomorrow, do you want to come over and hang out with me?" She asked with expectation in her golden brown eyes.

"Oh, er, I, ah, actually have plans for that night," George faltered, suddenly feeling embarrassed about his arrangements with Fiona.

"Oh," Hermione shrugged noncommittally.

"Er, well, Fiona-Professor Doctel and I were going to go into Hogsmeade for a bit…You're more than welcome to join-" George hastily tacked on an invitation, but Hermione had lifted her hand to interrupt him.

"Not a problem George. Don't worry about including me. I can get together with Luna or something."

"You sure?"

"Of course," Hermione assured him a little too quickly. The pair continued in silence to the Great Hall.

-o-O-o-

George finally woke up on Friday morning; the weekend had once again rolled around and his date with Fiona was that night. Of course, George was not considering it a date. He was merely planning on showing his coworker around the town and perhaps stopping by The Three Broomsticks afterwards for an evening beverage. Nevertheless, George put more than his minimalistic amount of thought into his outfit for the day. He settled on a grayish blue shirt and a navy sweater vest – arguably an outfit that hardly deviated from his typical attire. Deciding to up his style quotient a bit in order to somewhat match his stylish colleague he grabbed a diagonally-striped tie – in blue hues, of course – and knotted it around his neck, pushing the end into his sweater vest. He knew the blue palate perfectly highlighted his bright eyes and figured that the sleeveless vest helped to emphasize the broadness of his shoulders. He wasn't sure what inspired his desire to look nice for the meeting; while he thought Fiona was very striking, he didn't think that he necessarily wanted her to find him attractive. More likely – he had to admit – he was concerned about the sophisticated Transfiguration Professor looking down on him and didn't want to provide anything that she could potentially degrade.

George hurried into the Great Hall, yet again concerned about arriving before the students had already seated. He quickly slid into the seat that was becoming his typical place to sit: a spot right beside Hermione.

"Hey, morning. You look nice," Hermione complimented, obviously having noticed the extra effort George had put into his appearance that morning.

"Er, yah? Thanks. You do, as always…I mean, you always look nice," Ever since George had recognized his feelings for his friend he had a tendency to stutter and stammer more than he would like around her. It generally would take him several moments for his heart to settle and his conversational skills to reach any sort of normality.

"Ugh, I don't feel like I do," Hermione gestured to her hair, which had admittedly reverted back to her Hogwarts day's level of bushiness. Otherwise, she was dressed smartly in simple dark grey slacks and a periwinkle blouse. "Are you looking forward to going out with Fiona tonight?"

"I suppose so" – George replied hesitantly – "I should be trying to get to know my co-workers."

"Yah, that's really good of you," Hermione flippantly ran her hand across her forehead, altering the directions of her bangs, and returned to her breakfast. George took it as a cue to do the same. He stared at his breakfast and idly picked at his food, getting a strange sense that his plans may have upset his friend. A quick glance at Hermione and George couldn't sense anything about her demeanor that would suggest that she was frustrated with him. He decided to bush aside any such concerns and focused, instead, on eating his breakfast, discouraged about the silence that had grown between him and his friend.

-o-O-o-

After dinner, George found Fiona waiting for him outside the Great Hall. As he had expected, she was finely dressed in skin-tight, cigarette, black pants, red heels, and a white, satin blouse.

"Ah, lovely, very nice to see you George," Fiona intoned.

"Yah, likewise" – George replied and motioned at the door – "Shall we?"

In silence, the pair exited the castle at the main entrance. George had thought better than to take Fiona down one of his secret tunnels and so he had made earlier arrangements with Hagrid to have a carriage ready for their evening. Reliable as always, Hagrid was outside waiting for them, holding the reigns of a Thestral that was already strapped to one of the small, open buggies.

"Thanks Hagrid," George said as he accepted the reigns from the tall, affable gameskeeper and hopped into the buggy.

"Her, no pro'lem George. 'Ave a good evnin'" Hagrid replied in his heavily inflected speech. The large man gave the Thestral several affectionate pats before he waved to the professors and wandered off towards his hut. George leaned over the carriage to offer a Fiona a hand, helping her into the seat beside him.

"I don't understand the point of that man," Fiona noted once she was seated.

"Who? Hagrid?" George asked surprised. "He's been here forever. He's basically part of this place by now." George smiled fondly; Hagrid, as gameskeeper, was a favourite of many students.

"Oh, well I suppose it's very kind of McGonagall to keep him around then," Fiona replied in a tone that George hoped wasn't actually as disdainful as he thought it was. George gave a flick of the reign to start the Thestral walking. Disliking the sight of the sinewy, winged beast, he turned to face Fiona and attempted to engage his coworker in conversation.

"So…ah, what is your favourite thing about teaching Transfiguration?" He questioned, recalling that she had mentioned that teaching the subject was her dream.

"Oh, I suppose I just enjoy the ability to take something and change it into something completely different. It just seems like such a useful skill," She retorted with a faint trace of a smile. "As a child, I always enjoyed the way that things in our house never looked the same from one day to the next. My mother, you see, was also very fond of transfiguration." George was pleased that he had managed to find a topic which interested Fiona. He continued to ask his companion questions about the subject, as they continued along the path to Hogsmeade. The soon reached the town and George let the carriage through the streets, pointing out the different shops to Fiona. After one loop, the buggy pulled to a stop in front of The Three Broomstick; the establishment that George had chosen to finish their evening together. George quickly jumped out of the slowing carriage and tied the reigns to the provided hitching post. Once the buggy came to a complete halt, he held out his hand to Fiona, figuring that a true gentleman would assist her down the steep step off the carriage.

"Well isn't this…quant." Fiona narrowed her alluring grey eyes on the friendly welcome sign above the restaurant and spoke with her slight accent mixed with a tinge of condescension. There was something about her stiffened way of standing and her minimalistic hand gestures that reminded George of his sister-in-law, Bill's wife Fleur. Even though he was put off by her icy demeanor, George decided to not let that phase his judgment of his colleague. After all, he had significantly warmed to Fleur over time.

"Well, shall we?" George asked, opening the wood paneled door. He chose to take her remark as a compliment, knowing that the look the restaurant was aiming for was rustic.

"Georgie! Lovely to see you." Madame Rosmerta called from behind the counter. George smiled at her and waved. He had always been Madame Rosmerta's favourite, much to the chagrin of the youngest Weasley son. "What can I get for you today Georgie?" The curvy bartender asked him, leaning her elbows on the high table he and Fiona had selected.

"Ah, I'll have a Butterbeer," George looked to Fiona who ordered a glass of red wine.

As the two made stilted conversation, George found himself missing the easy-to-talk-to Hermione. His chats with his friend were always so free-flowing and comfortable, especially in comparison to the forced dialogue between him and Fiona. It wasn't that is co-worker was uninteresting, far from in fact. Fiona had obviously lived a very fascinating life: one filled with travel, engaging jobs, and important people. Rather, their areas of interest were so far afield that they had little to connect over. Once the topic of Transfiguration was depleted, George noted that Fiona became ever more interested in spinning her hair around her finger and swirling her wineglass. He tried to interest her by describing his shop, but it was obvious that she did not find the subject engaging. Fiona was undeniable beautiful, but she was clearly not one for conversation. George tried to stifle a sigh; he knew that if Hermione had been the one who had accompanied him to Hogsmeade, he would have hardly noticed the passing time as he would be too busy laughing and chatting with his engaging friend.

As soon as Fiona had finished her glass of wine, George quickly polished off his second Butterbeer.

"Do you want another glass?" He asked, not particularly wanting her to answer affirmatively.

"If you don't mind, I'm terribly tired and would like to get back," She replied absentmindedly. George nodded and hopped up to settle his bill with Madame Rosemerta.

"Come back soon, right George," Madame Rosmerta cooed, handing him back a couple Galleons which he dropped into her tip jar. "Don't be a stranger."

"I promise I'll come visit you soon," George said with a grin. He always liked the friendly, older woman. Joining Fiona at the door, the pair exited the cozy restaurant and emerged into the late evening air. George found the Thestral waiting patiently for them. He helped his coworker into the buggy, unhitched the animal, and clambered onto the carriage. Soon they were on their way, winding down the empty trial towards the castle.

-o-O-o-

"Ah, would you like me to walk you to your room?" George asked once they pulled up to Hogwarts.

"On no, quite all right. Thank you for keeping me company tonight, George," Fiona replied in the sweetest tone George had ever heard her use. She gently kissed both George's cheeks in politeness and disappeared into the castle. After releasing the Thestral from the carriage, George did the same.

Hogwarts' halls were quiet. George assumed that most of the students were already in their common rooms. He mindlessly ambled along the corridors towards his quarter, not particularly paying attention to any of his surroundings; he knew the castle so well that walking to his room had become instinctual. When he reached his office, he glanced at the pile of work on his desk, sighing resolutely. He knew that he should spend the rest of the evening making a dent in his workload. However, he didn't particularly feel like being responsible. After all, it was still Friday and he had the remainder of the weekend to finish his tasks.

George collapsed in tiredness onto his couch. As he sat in stillness, he realized that he should have taken Hermione up on her offer to spend the Friday evening together; time with her would have been much more enjoyable and relaxing than the strained evening with Fiona. Everything with Hermione was more enjoyable, he thought. A quick look at his fireplace and George decided to leave his office. With a slight knot in his stomach, George wandered to the marble fireplace and reached into the ceramic pot on the mantle, finding the familiar bright, green powder. He was tired of wondering if his feelings for his friend were unrequited; it was time, he decided, to find out if she had a deeper interest in him as well.

"Granger's office," He yelled resolutely, carefully stepping into the grate and sprinkling the powder around his feet. The familiar sensation of travelling by floo powder hit him almost immediately. His flat melted away and his body felt as though it was being pulled downwards by something strong at his feet. Before the image of Hermione's office became solidified, George was able to hear the tinkling music that was an ever-present feature of Hermione's flat. The music cheered him up and made him feel more confident: it reminded him so much of Hermione and it indicated that she was likely in her flat. George steadied himself while Hermione's flat began to come into vision.

"George!" Hermione's voice echoed sharply around George in the now viable fireplace. "What are you doing here?"

George stumbled out of the grate and into Hermione's living quarters. He almost fell but was able to catch his balance and right himself.

"George, why are you here?" Hermione reiterated.

George opened his mouth to tell his friend that he had come to visit her and why but soon found himself standing mouth agape at the surprising sight of Hermione's house guest: a slender, curly haired man. Hermione was seated on her couch cross legged while Terence sat near, his arm causally draped over the back of the sofa, almost right over Hermione. The two both looked shocked at George's presence. It was clear that he had interrupted them mid-conversation.

"Oh, er, ah, so sorry…ah…I am going to leave now….have a good night Hermione, Terence." George stammered, nodding to his coworkers. His stomach felt on fire, his throat was dry, and his hands trembled slightly as he became filled with jealousy at having encountered the pair so obviously together.

"George, just wait," Hermione called but George had already turned back to step into the fireplace, his mind cluttered with frustration and disappointment.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen **

_Author's note: Thanks for Reading! Not Mine! JK's _

"George, just wait," Hermione called as George was about to step back into the fireplace, desperate to be away from the room and the couch that Hermione and Terence were sitting on. "George, what's going on?" Her tone wasn't angry but it contained more force than to which George was accustomed.

"Nothing. I was just coming to see you. But I see that I've interrupted your privacy."

"George…you can stay." Hermione offered, standing up off the couch and approaching George at the fireplace.

Oh er, no, I don't mind leaving," George stammered. He felt confused as to how to deal with the situation. His gut hurt almost on a physical level; he had come to Hermione's feeling so prepared to tell her of his feelings only to have any hope on such regards ripped apart.

"I actually was just about to leave," Terence said good-naturedly. He had already risen to his feet shortly after George's unexpected arrival. "Night to both of you. Hermione take care," With a friendly nod, the other man pulled a handful of green Floo powder out of the wicker basket beside Hermione's fireplace. After quickly patting George's shoulder, he strode into the fireplace before George was able to access the mode of travel. In a bright green flash the Defence against the Dark Arts Professor disappeared leaving George and Hermione standing alone in the flat, momentary surrounded by silence.

"What are you doing here George?" Hermione reiterated sharply once she caught her bearings.

"I don't know. Coming to see you I suppose. I-ah…I'm sorry I spoiled your evening."

"George…" Hermione sighed. "I thought you were out with Fiona tonight."

"I was, but then I wanted to see you," George replied, surprised at how angry and accusatory his voice was. "I didn't know you had company."

"Yah, I have friends," Hermione retorted as the pitch of her tone ascended to the point that it matched George's. "I'm allowed to have people over to my flat, aren't I?"

"Are you shagging him again?" George questioned his voice a mix of demanding and pathetic. "You two looked awfully cozy," He added vehemently.

"That's not any of you business George Weasley," Hermione said decisively, sounding especially angry.

"Well I don't care if you go after him." George said even though it wasn't the truth. "If you want to be with him, you're more than welcomed to go find him."

"No…" Hermione faltered. "That's ok…I don't need to..." Her voice began to fade away, but she took a deep breath and continued in a louder pitch: "And I don't get why you would come over without telling me. You didn't even knock,"

"I didn't know I needed to make an appointment just to see you." George retorted feeling embarrassed by his outburst while he was in the midst of it. "You're my friend." He said lamely, not adding what he wanted; it didn't feel like the appropriate occasion to tell her of his romantic feelings for her. "I shouldn't have to send you and owl before coming over to see you."

"Don't be ridiculous George."

"Well…when you-" George wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say even while he was speaking, but he didn't have to finish his thought because a soft rap on Hermione's door interrupted the bickering pair.

"Oh, it appears that someone is here to see me, someone who understands the importance of the subtitles of human etiquette, like knocking." Hermione pointedly derided George. She turned and snapped at the door: "Who is it?"

Without a reply, the door opened and Headmistress McGonagall authoritatively strode into the flat.

"Oh, er…Hello Minerva." Hermione composed herself and graciously welcomed the older woman.

"Ah, lovely. You're both here. This will save me a trip to George's. I needed to see you both." McGonagall gave a slight nod to both Hermione and George.

"Er…what's going on?" George asked, confused as the appearance of the Headmistress.

"Well…I'm afraid we have a bit of an incident." McGonagall said with her mouth formed into a fine line. "You see, several students thought it would be prudent to leave the castle and explore the forest." Hermione groaned audibly at McGonagall's explanation.

"Which students?" She asked sounding exasperated.

"Well. No surprises, of course." McGonagall said with a shake of her head. Her chin lifted at its usual angle, she listed the offending students: "Dylan O'Callaghan, Evie Caldecott, and Gareth Roystone…I'm sure you could have guessed that on your own, Professor Granger."

Hermione nodded disapprovingly: "Of course, I should have known." George immediately recognized the names of the fourth-year Ravenclaws. Dylan, especially, could be a formidable troublemaker. George could picture the boy easily, the way he always leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed, his shock of dark brown hair hanging in his eyes. The other two were a constant presence around the tall boy. Evie, a slight girl with a cheeky smile and a dark pixie cut that also had a tendency to cover her eyes; Dylan's cousin, if George recalled Hermione's explanations correctly. Gareth was a shier boy with close-cropped, curly blonde hair who followed the other two around, seemingly grateful to be included in their antics.

"It's not like Ravenclaws to disobey the rules about the Forbidden Forest," George chuckled, knowing that such misbehaving was generally undertaken by his own house.

"Well, the lines between the houses are significantly less pronounced than they once were," McGonagall replied tersely through pursed lips. "I'm afraid that we have students in other houses with the same misguided courage displayed by some of our past Gryffindors." McGonagall stared down over her nose at George and then at Hermione in such a way that George had to conclude that McGonagall included him and his companion in her list of such unfortunately noteworthy students. "I assumed that, as the two members of our staff most familiar with causing trouble, you and Miss Granger would be best suited to this endeavor." McGonagall instructed. Before Hermione or George had the opportunity to reply, the formidable woman had already turned and swiftly left the room, clearly having assumed that the two would naturally agree to her request.

"Of course, Minerva." Hermione replied needlessly to the departing McGonagall. She sighed resolutely while George nodded in assent, even though he didn't particularly fancy having to complete the task. He was still hurt, jealous, and frustrated at finding Hermione alone with Professor Higgs and would have preferred not to have to cooperate with her for the remainder of the evening.

"So?" George turned to Hermione expectantly, hoping to gage her take on the excursion that had been fostered upon them.

"Well. Let's go. They shouldn't have gotten too deep into the forest." Hermione instructed sharply.

"Shouldn't you wear something warmer?" George stared at the flimsy, raspberry-coloured, vee-neck shirt she had changed into before his arrival, trying not to focus on the way it revealed the dip of her breasts. "Er..ah…you might be cold in that." He pointed out, glad that he had bothered to exchange his light sweater vest for his bright blue, heavy knit, Weasley jumper before leaving his flat to come to Hermione's. The autumn weather was growing increasingly cold and could, especially at night, but quite frosty.

"No. I'm fine." Hermione grabbed her familiar blue, canvas ballet flats from beside her door and forcefully pulled them onto her feet. "Let's go."

-o-O-o-

George tried to mimic a confident figure as he and Hermione trucked through the Forbidden Forest. Similar to how Ron had maintained a fear of spiders, George was always uneasy in the dark, something he hoped Hermione would not realize. The forest was particularly foreboding. The trees grew close together, creating a canopy overhead. George could hear hooting in the treetops above them and scampering all around them, indicating that they were surrounded by creatures. Not knowing what type or the size of beasts watching them didn't help George's feelings of discomfort. The tightness of the trees gave the sense of feeling trapped within the forest and the darkness was prevalent. George had no idea why students would even want to venture into the off-limits forest; it was undeniably frightening.

"Where do you think they would have gone?" George asked, breaking the silence. Since they had left Hermione's flat, the air between the two remained tense; both were clearly still uncomfortable from their earlier row. "It's such a big forest. They could be anywhere."

"I doubt their very fair in," Hermione replied. "For all his bravado, Dylan is remarkable timid about things like this….If we just continue around the edge, I'm sure we'll overtake them." George was impressed with how nonchalant Hermione sounded; she wasn't as worried as he was about the forest or what they might find. Of course, she had more experience with the forest, its terrain, and its inhabitants than he did.

"Are you cold?" George asked, noticing that Hermione was shivering considerable.

"No, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You look like you're freezing." George aggressively yanked his Weasley jumper off over his head. "Here, wear this."

"I don't need that George. I'm fine." Hermione reiterated assertively.

"No. You're lips are practically blue. If you catch a cold, I'll feel like rubbish. Just put this on."

"Alright," Hermione said a bit snappishly, but she accepted the sweater and pulled it on. "Thanks." She added absentmindedly. The jumper was comically large on her, extending down to her mid thigh and swallowing her torso. Hermione pushed the sleeves up her arm, barely allowing her hand to stick out. "Aren't you cold now?" She questioned, sounding genuinely concerned.

"No, I'm fine." George replied, echoing her gentle tone. Admittedly, the chilly air was rather biting, but his button down shirt was thick cotton and feeling a bit cold was better than feeling guilty about a shivering Hermione. The coolness that still existed between him and Hermione, however, was not bearable. "Er…Hermione…" George hesitantly cleared his throat before continuing in a repentant voice: "I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. I was being out of line." He confessed, feeling ashamed about his earlier outburst.

"Don't worry George. I'm sorry I overreacted. You should be able to come by and see me whenever you want." Hermione smiled at him over the bright blue collar of his Weasley sweater. George couldn't help but return her grin, appreciating her kind offer and the way the vibrant colour brought out her golden brown eyes.

"It was rude about what I said about you shagging Higgs…" George said cautiously, unsure if he should, once again, bring up the topic.

"I'm not." Hermione quickly contributed. "I'm not shagging him…anymore. We try to maintain cordiality though and so I had him over. He was actually explaining to me about the necklace when you came over."

"Oh?"

"Yah, he didn't mean anything of it. I think I overreacted on that too…"

"I don't think so, Mione," George said fervently. "I think he was being a bit of a prick giving it to you."

"No George, he wasn't." Hermione stood up for her coworker and former love interest. "He just thought I'd like it."

"Ok," George returned. He wasn't convinced by Hermione's explanation, however, thinking that Terence's gift was intended to needlessly lead Hermione along. "You're just so sweet, Mione. Of course you'd expect the best of-" George's compliment was sharply interrupted by a protruding root on the ground of the forest floor. The obstruction caught his foot and he tumbled to his knees, catching his fall with both his palms.

"George, are you ok?"

"Bloody hell!" George yelled, turning over so that he was seated on the ground. "That hurt like hell." He rubbed his palms together to shake of the dirt and he started to survey his body, looking for any potential injury.

"Oh George…your ankle." Hermione said with worry in her voice. George glanced at the ankle that had caught the root, shuddering when he saw that it was twisted at an unnatural angle.

"Oh damn."

"It's ok, I think I can fix it," Hermione's hand went to the pocket of her jeans, locating her wand. Before she was able to brandish it, a chorus of giggles from behind a nearby rock stopped her movement.

"Is that?" George asked.

"Dylan, Evie, Gareth?" Hermione called sharply towards the bolder. She turned to meet George's eyes with an uncomfortable expression that George was sure was mirrored on his own face. He groaned inwardly, wondering how much of their intimate conversation, not to mention his string of curse words, the students had overheard.

"Oi Professors." A mocking voice echoed from behind the rock.

"Do you mind sitting tight? I'll be right back," Hermione promised George. She returned her wand to her pocket and ventured off the makeshift path to retrieve the students. Shortly, she returned, pulling Dylan behind her, while the other two followed shamefacedly. Hermione dragged the sheepish-looking youngster by his upper arm. Even though the boy was a head taller than the professor, he shrunk in her presence as Hermione walked him along with a formidable and authoritarian gait.

"Looks like you caught us, Professor Granger, Professor Weasley," Dylan said, trying to sound flippant and attempting to maintain a cheeky grin even though it was clear he was concerned about the pending disciplinary consequences. "Nice fall, Professor Weasley." The youngster said with a laugh in George's direction.

"Yes O'Callaghan," Hermione easily adopted her strictest tone. "I'm sure Headmistress McGonagall will have an appropriate punishment for your behavior." Although she spoke sternly, George was certain that she was just as concerned about what the students might have overheard as he was. "What were the three of you thinking? The forest is incredibly dangerous. You have no idea what could have befallen you here."

"We just wanted to have a little fun, Professor Granger," Dylan retorted with an impish smirk. George, from his vantage point of still being seated on the dirt, wanted to give the boy a shake for his insolence, but thought better of it. Finding himself in support of the side of authority amused George, but he figured that, as a professor, it was the appropriate position for him to take.

"What happened to Professor Weasley?" Evie asked, noticing the fallen George and obviously wanting to divert the conversation away from the topic of their potential punishment.

"Oh right. I should fix that ankle." Hermione, once again, grabbed her wand from her pocket. She quietly muttered an incantation while tapping her wand against George's mangled ankle. George immediately felt the pain subside as his ankle began to heal itself. "Can you put weight on it?" Hermione asked.

"Hmm…let me see…" George gingerly propped himself up and attempted to get to his feet. His injured ankle was tender but seemed to be able to support his weight.

"It should be fully healed shortly" – Hermione interjected – "Here…" She wrapped her arm around George's torso, glancing at each of the students in turn. George sensed that she was self-conscious about touching him in such an intimate way around the young Ravenclaws, but George also knew that he wouldn't be able to complete the trek back to the castle without her support. The group slowly wandered through the forest. George stepped carefully on his slowly healing ankle while, for the most part, leaning on Hermione. The three students trailed behind them, all walking with noticeable slouches, clearly embarrassed at having to be accompanied by the two professors. Once the group reached the castle, George's ankle strength had been restored and he was able to walk without Hermione's assistance. Reluctantly, he released himself from her grasp as they entered the building.

"You ok?" Hermione questioned when George started walking on his own.

"Yah, you did a great job. My ankle doesn't hurt in the least," George said with a proud grin, impressed, as always, with his friend's magical prowess.

"It was a very simple spell," Hermione returned George's smile. George was relieved that he and his friend had seemed to mange to shake the discomfort that had earlier existed between them. Together they continued to march the trio of students through Hogwarts' corridors to McGonagall's office.

-o-O-o-

"We're here to see Headmistress McGonagall," Hermione reported to the stone cat before it even had the opportunity to inquire as to their business. The cat quickly disappeared into a pile of rubble and then rematerialized while the door in the cottage painting opened.

"Oh hello. Well, it's nice to see you. Of course, I'd rather not be seeing you three under such circumstances." McGonagall briskly stated when George and Hermione led the misbehaving students into her office.

"Shall we stay?" Hermione gestured between herself and George.

"Oh no, I have it from here," McGonagall replied, her voice terse. She narrowed her eyes on each of the students in turn. "Thank you Professor Granger, Professor Weasley." She waved her hand to bid George and Hermione goodbye. Nodding and mumbling their farewells, the two professors exited the office.

"Oh wow, I'm glad that's not me anymore," George whistled once they were out of earshot.

"One wrong step and it could be," Hermione teased, relieving George at how much she sounded like her normal self.

"Mione….even though I wouldn't have planned it like this, I'm glad I got the chance to hang out with you tonight," George said earnestly. Hermione looked surprised at his sudden sentimentality.

"Oh, George…Th-that's very sweet. I'm glad I got to spend time with you too."

"I should have taken you up on your offer the other day. Spending time with Fiona was not-it wasn't like spending time with you."

Hermione smiled while her checks coloured with a slight flush at George's remark: "Oh, well, it was kind of you to take her out anyway. I don-" She started on a thought, but George interrupted her before she was able to verbalize any further.

"You are more than a friend Hermione….Y-you-you're my-my best friend…." George had considered telling Hermione of his deeper feelings but faltered, unable to find the courage to complete the thought.

"Really George!" Hermione brightened considerably at his comment as her face lit up with a wide, toothy smile. "Really?"

"Well…yah…" George said, realizing that the statement was, in fact, true. "Well…other than…you know…" He shrugged, not necessarily wanting to bring his twin into the conversation.

"I know, George." Hermione spoke kindly. "You're my best friend too, George…well one of them." She added hastily and then looked embarrassed. "That sounded mean…"

"No it didn't." George chuckled, understanding what Hermione meant. He didn't feel lessened by the fact that she wasn't able to discredit her friendships with Harry, Ginny, Ron, Luna, and Neville: the people to whom he assumed she was referring.

"Ok good." Hermione sighed. George felt a slight surge of the courage that he earlier lacked and threw his arm around Hermione's shoulder, pulling her close into his torso. To his great pleasure, Hermione didn't shrug off his gesture, but instead entwined her own arm around his torso. Walking arm in arm with his friend caused George to smile; it reminded him so vividly of his first night, when he had led a drunken Hermione through the same corridors. This time, however, Hermione was able to walk on her own volition and George was able to fully enjoy having the young woman in his arms. In the last number of weeks he had grown to know her so well and had come to appreciate her and her friendship so much. As a result, there was a certain reward with having her so close. The pair walked in contented silence, their steps in perfect unison, and their arms around snugly wrapped each other until they reached, to George's chagrin, their point of departure.

"Well, goodnight George. I'll see you tomorrow…you excited? Big Quidditch match." Hermione said sweetly, separating from George's grasp.

"Oh right," George groaned. He had momentarily forgotten about the game verses Slytherin; a match that would most likely prove tough for his young side.

"They'll be great, George. You're a wonderful coach."

"Thanks, Mione. Goodnight and sleep tight," George returned. He waved goodbye to his departing friend and then continued on his way to his own quarters.

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading. We're getting close to the end. Ps. I'm trying to come up with the basics for my next story [another Hermione/Geroge story, of course]. It is definitely going to be from Hermione's Perspective – I far prefer writing in her perspective to writing George's. It's a bit easier for me….Feel free to send me a message with any suggestions. I love hearing what people have to say and will do my best to include any ideas! _


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen **

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Not mine – JK's _

The next day George woke up with unexpected nerves rumbling in his stomach: it was his Gryffindor team's first Quidditch match of the season. He knew that they would be in tough against the more experienced Slytherin side, but he hadn't expected to feel so invested in the game. After several moments of contemplation, George grabbed his old Gryffindor practice jersey out of his closet and slid it over his head, covering his bare chest. He wasn't sure if it was inappropriate for him to so obviously declare his allegiance to the Gryffindor squad, but figured that, since he had been coaching them for most of the season, it wouldn't be too much of a problem.

As he wandered out of his flat and into his office, he noticed Ginny's tiny owl, Arnold, flitting around by his window. The sight of the small bird came as no surprise; he had Ginny had been maintaining a frequent correspondence.

"Come here, boy," He cooed at the tiny owl, opening his window to allow the bird access to his living quarters. Arnold had grown sufficiently more proficient at letter delivery over the course of George and Ginny's communication and ably hopped into George's flat and dropped the small, folded up parchment on George's windowsill. Arnold bounced around on one leg while George retrieved a treat from the box he kept by his window. After gleefully accepting the treat from George and pausing to let George ruffle its neck feathers, the miniature, gray bird bounded out the window and soared into the distance. George couldn't help but grin at the sight of the bird departing into the crisp, fall morning; Arnold's antics always amused him.

George unfolded the parchment in his hand, smiling at Ginny's familiar, looping printing:

"George, looking forward to seeing you today for the Quidditch match. Go Gryffindor!" George had to chuckle at the briefness of his sister's note. It was so like Ginny to mention her plans to him with such short notice and with so few words. The letter was the first that he had heard about his little sister's plans to come watch the Quidditch game. He realized that the letter hardly indicated anything to him; it didn't tell if anyone else was coming, what time his sister was intending on arriving, or whether she was going to stay for any length of time. Shaking his head fondly, George folded the parchment and stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans, figuring that he could use it later to tease his beloved sister. Without giving the note any further thought, George scampered out of his living quarters, eager to get to the Quidditch pitch before the game.

-o-O-o-

The excitement of the upcoming match was palpable around the school. It was the first official game of the year and all students – no matter of house – seemed to be buzzing about the game. As George jogged through the corridors towards Hogwarts' main exit, it seemed as if every group of students were talking eagerly about the pending match. Slytherin green and Gryffindor scarlet and gold were in full force as all students in the respective houses had decked themselves out fully in their house's colours, excited about the prospect of supporting their teams. Groups of Gryffindor students would stop George in the halls to demand high fives or to get him to join in the choruses of familiar Gryffindor support chants. By the time he reached the outdoor's fresh air, a huge smile had claimed a place on George's face. He found that his anticipation for the game matched those of his students.

The day was well-suited to Quidditch. It was cold out, but it was also clear. When George reached the central Quidditch pitch both the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams were already warming up, having claimed opposite ends of the field. Even though it was almost an hour to game time, the stadium was already starting to fill up with students wanting to get the best seats. The line between the Slytherin and the Gryffindor supporters was pronounced, as one side of the stadium was predominantly green while the other was almost entirely gold and scarlet. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students filled up the edges. George smiled when he saw that Gryffindor students had set up large pieces of fabric – likely, George though, sheets off their beds – around the walls of the stadium. The fabric and been altered to match the Gryffindor house colours. The sight of them made George realize why the young Gryffindor girls had been so eager earlier to learn the Change Colour Charm.

George found his way through the stadium and on to the pitch. At the site of him waving from the ground, his team slowly descended until they surrounded him.

"How we feeling team?" George asked when all seven of the Gryffindor side had come to stand on the grass next to him. Nothing but nervous nods met George's question. "Ah, er, just relax out there. Remember what we've been working on. You'll be great!" George knew it wasn't the most inspiring pep talk of all time, but his team looked significantly encouraged by his kind words. "Ok guys, get back up there and get warmed up. I'll be cheering from the stands." George led his team in a cheer of "Gryffindor" and then gave each player a high five.

"Hey guys," George glanced to the side of the pitch where Hermione was standing. She was wearing a gold sweater with her old Gryffindor scarf. Her cheeks were flushed from the bite of the chilly air, but she was smiling brightly. "I just wanted to wish you all the best," Hermione continued, venturing onto the pitch. She continued her motivational speech, which George had to admit was far more eloquent than his own. "Ok…Just play your best, play fair, and play like you're in Gryffindor." Hermione concluded spiritedly. George led the team in another cheer and the professors waved good luck to the students while the team bounded into the air on their brooms.

"Glad you made it out, Mione," George smiled.

"Of course. I'm head of the house. It's my job to be here." Hermione returned his grin. "Ginny saved us some spots. Let's go."

Hermione led George up the steep steps of the stadium until she pointed to the appropriate row. George glanced past some fifth year Gryffindor students until he saw a group of familiar faces. His little sister was waving back at him, wearing her old Gryffindor practice jersey with her Gryffindor scarf. Next to her was Harry, who was wearing a scarlet jumper and a Gryffindor scarf. Teddy – Harry's godson – was bouncing up and down in his seat next to his godfather. Teddy had Harry's old Gryffindor practice jersey on. The garment was far too large for the seven-year-old. Ginny or Harry had rolled the sleeves up several times until Teddy's tiny hands were able to stick out. George felt a surge of pride for the young boy who he barely knew. The youngster was so excited that George hoped that one day he would find himself in Gryffindor. At the end of the row, Ron – also in his old Gryffindor practice jersey – sat with Anna, his girlfriend. Anna was wearing a Gryffindor scarf and cheering enthusiastically along with everyone, even though, George knew, she wasn't the biggest fan of Quidditch. Hermione and George pushed past the row of fifth-year Gryffindor students, who stood for them and clapped them both excitedly on the backs, offering cheers of support for Gryffindor. Finally they reached the end of the row. George plopped into the empty seat that Ginny was saving for him while Hermione claimed the spot next to him.

"Ginny! What's going on? I can't believe you're here." George exclaimed after Ginny had flung herself at him to greet him with an enthusiastic hug.

"I know. I'm so excited. Harry was able to get a portkey approved so that we could all come here." Ginny said through an impressive grin.

"It's so great to see you Gin," George replied fervently, legitimately overjoyed to be sitting next to his younger sister.

"It's great to see you too George." Ginny said sincerely, reaching over to give George's hand a quick squeeze. "You look great, you know…you look really healthy and seem really happy."

"I'm doing well," George returned contemplatively. He considered his little sister's observation and realized that she was probably correct. He knew that his face had filled in since he had arrived at Hogwarts thanks to the daily large meals. It no longer was a gaunt as it had once been. She was also right about the happiness comment; he hadn't been as content elsewhere in a very long time as he was currently teaching at the school. George turned to face Ginny, about to resume their conversation but he was interrupted when the stands exploded into cheers. The Quidditch balls had been released and the game was underway.

-o-O-o-

Within half an hour, George's voice was hoarse from yelling and cheering so loudly for his team. He wasn't used to being on the spectator side of the sport, having generally been part of the team on the pitch, but found that the enjoyment in watching almost rivaled that of playing. Throwing aside any professorial decorum, George got swept away in the cheers that students in the Gryffindor section were leading. Glancing down at the brunette at his side, he chuckled when he saw that Hermione was just as lost in the game as he was. She was bouncing nervously on the spot while her hair, for the most part had escaped her once neat plait, surrounding her face with curls. A deeper flush had risen on her cheeks giving her normally pale skin an energetic liveliness. For just a moment, George's attention left the match; he couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of his colleague.

A rush of cheers from the Gryffindor supporters pulled George from his daydream. Returning to the match, he noticed Cora doing a celebratory loop of the field, followed closely by Jeannie and Brian. George yelled loudly with the rest of the Gryffindors. The score brought the Gryffindor team within striking distance. They were still losing 180 – 40, a large deficit, but one that could be overcome if Lexi was about to find the Snitch. Cora's goal brought an extra life to the Gryffindor fans. A group of students started up a chant and soon the entire mass of supporters was singing along loudly. George didn't recognize the particular cheer, but he gamely tried to keep up nevertheless. For the most part, however, he just yelled and clapped.

The Gryffindor supporters erupted once again when Jeannie scored on a breakaway with a pretty and deceptive maneuver. George's excitement was growing considerable. He could tell that his team was playing at their uppermost level. The Chasers were flying well together and Rebekah had settled into a comfortable rhythm at keeper after a few sloppy goals early in the match. He tried to find Lexi and eventually saw the tiny seeker flitting around above the match, roving on her broom, trying to locate the Golden Snitch.

The stadium was practically vibrating with noise after Slytherin and Gryffindor traded a pair of quick goals. George was concerned that he would be lacking a voice on Monday morning from screaming so heartily, but, despite his increasingly sore throat, he kept yelling and cheering.

"Hey, look at that!" Harry exclaimed loudly to Ginny. George overheard his friend's comment and looked at Harry. Harry was pointing at something across the pitch. George looked across the field, barely making out the tiny image of Lexi riffling towards the grass at top speed. The Gryffindor supporters grew quieter as many fell silent, trying to discern what Gryffindor's most famous former Seeker was pointing out. Lexi was descending at an ever accelerating speed while the Slytherin Seeker valiantly tried to keep up, maintaining a brooms length between him and the young Gryffindor. George couldn't really get an exact sense of what was happening on the other side of the field; it was too far away and the players were moving too quickly, reducing them to little more than colourful blurs. Nevertheless, he clutched his fists in anticipation and muttered silent plea for success for his young Seeker.

The Slytherin side – from their vantage point of being right next to the immediate play – let out a loud, disappointed groan in unison and George understood that the match must have ended. When he saw Lexi shoot back up into the air, her hand held above her, he knew for sure that she had found and caught the Snitch. At the realization that their team had squeaked out a come-from-behind victory the Gryffindor supporters exploded into cheers and hoots and hollers. George grabbed Hermione by the waist, picked her up and jumped up and down with her in his arms. Hermione seemed just as excited as he was as she positively shook in his arms. George realized that he had fully discarded any sense of professionalism with his display but didn't particularly care; he was sure no one was paying any attention to him and Hermione. The old, wooden stadium trembled as the mass of Gryffindor supporters jumped around in celebration. George grinned as a banner from above hit him in the face. He brushed aside the scarlet fabric and gently set Hermione on the ground. As the Gryffindor team took a celebratory lap of the field, waving and blowing kisses at their supporters, George stood with the rest of the fans and proudly clapped for the victorious team.

-o-O-o-

"Does anyone want to come by my office for some tea or something?"George asked his as they were exiting the stadium. They had waited in the stadium while the Gryffindor supporters had rushed out, eager to get to the victory party in the common room. George couldn't help but sigh at the site of the excited students on the way to the party; he remembered how much fun he had at similar parties during his student years. He knew it wasn't appropriate for a professor to show up at such a celebration, but wanted to have some sort of celebration of his own to attend. Also, he wasn't quite prepared for his time with his family and friends to be over and figured that they could have their own, significantly quieter, celebration in his office. Also, his intense fixation on the match had prevented him from much communication with Ron or Harry. The rest nodded or voiced their agreement and the group followed George to his office where they filed in and claimed spots around his living quarters.

"How's it going mate?" Ron asked, sidling up the George by his vantage point next to the fireplace.

"Oh, it's good. I'm pretty swell. You?"

"Yah. I'm well, Anna's doing well" – Ron looked with a wide grin at his girlfriend who was chatting with Hermione, neither seeming to have any hard feelings over having dated the same bloke – "Auror work is busy, but I love it…swing by the shop whenever I can. It's still going strong..." Ron's smile widened. "How's being a professor. I got to say, I never saw you teaching anyone anything."

"I know" – George chuckled – "But you know, it's going really well. I think I'm doing alright and I really enjoy it."

"Well…I actually think that you'd make a swell Prof," Ron said admiringly, his eyes gleaming at the prospect of having someone with such lax academic standards as a professor.

"Thanks mate," George fondly gave his younger brother a pat on the shoulder. George glanced around his flat, grateful for all the people with whom it was filled. Ginny and Harry were on the largest of George's couches, sitting close and talking lovingly, while Teddy curled up next to them with his head in his godfather's lap. George couldn't help but note that Ginny continually rubbed her stomach in a rather conspicuous manner and wondered if his little sister had a large piece of news for everyone. Neville and Luna were on the other couch. Neville had one arm around the tiny blonde while the other rested affectionately on her knee. Luna was sitting with her hands folded in her lap, staring up at Neville with equal fondness while the two chatted silently about something that likely only mattered to the two of them. Hermione was casually leaning against the back of the larger couch, chatting with Anna. Her body language betrayed no sign that she was engaged in conversation with someone who was involved with a former boyfriend. Instead, she looked friendly and open about talking with Anna. George hadn't noticed earlier how well the gold sweater suited her or how beautifully it matched her hair and brought out the gold of her eyes. He also was particularly aware of how well her figure was highlight by her position of lounging up against the back of the couch.

"What you looking at there George?" Ginny's voice startled George. He hadn't noticed that his little sister had gotten up off the couch and approached him by the fireplace.

"Oh nothing…." George muttered, hoping to deflect his sister's question.

"Really?" Ginny asked with a knowing grin. "I'm not blind George." She continued pointedly.

"I have no idea what you're talking about Gin," George said trying to keep a straight face. It was difficult for him to remain serious around Ginny, one of his favourite people.

"Ok…so, I was just imagining things during the match today…. 'Are you comfortable Hermione, do you understand everything that's happening, can I get anything for you?'" With a hand on her hip, Ginny mimicked, with a rather impressive precision, George's inquiries of his coworker throughout the game. "George, I get that you fancy Hermione."

"Gin, not so loud, you do realize she can probably hear you from here," George said in a concerned hush.

"So? George, you do realize that she's rather taken with you too?"

"No she's not." George tried to brush off his sister's comment, but what she had said intrigued him.

"George. Hermione is my best friend…don't you think I can tell when she is smitten with someone?" Ginny lowered her voice but still spoke sincerely. "Maybe you should just consider telling you how you feel…it's not like you to have a problem being forward with women." Ginny smiled.

"How have you been Gin? Any big news or anything?" George chuckled with a furtive look at Ginny's stomach. Even though he hastily changed the topic, he was still considering Ginny's observations. He couldn't help chuckle a little bit to find himself on the receiving end of almost an identical conversation to the one he had with Neville not too long ago. Considering how content Neville looked to have Luna almost directly in his lap, George had to wonder if he should have taken his own advice much earlier.

"Oh, you know. We're not really telling anyone yet..." Ginny said mysteriously but with an obvious rub of her lower abdomen.

"Oh Ginny." George's smile was wide and he leaned over to offer his sister a careful hug. "You know, the name George is quite lovely."

"Well…I'll add it to the list,"

"Brilliant."

"You know George" – Ginny's slightly freckled face adopted a serious expression – "What I said earlier about you looking really good, I meant it. I'm really glad to see how well you're doing."

"Thanks Gin."

"I know it was really tough for you…with everything," She faltered and George nodded to indicate that he was following her conversation stream. "I mean it was tough for all of us…but you especially. I get the sense that you're doing better."

"I miss him every single day, Ginny." George said passionately. "I'll miss him for the rest of my life."

"We all will."

"But I am doing better."

"I can tell." Ginny said, placing a warm hand on George's shoulder. George smiled down at his sister. It was hard for him to verbalize, but he was glad that his family was there. Glancing around the room filled with his loved ones, he knew he was going to be alright.

The rest of the afternoon passed all too quickly for George's liking. Soon he, Hermione, Neville, and Luna were hugging their friends goodbye and Ginny, Ron, Harry, Anna, and Teddy left to begin their trip back to London. The four professors returned to George's office where they sat talking until it was time to head to the Great Hall for dinner. As George watched Neville and Luna leave his office hand in hand, he took a peek at the brunette walking beside him. He knew that sooner or later he'd have to tell her how he felt; being around Hermione without knowing if she reciprocated his feelings was, George realized, becoming distinctly unpleasant.

_Author's note: Thanks for reading! Just a ps, comments are now open to those who don't have accounts….because I'm a bit of a comment slut…_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen **

_Author's Note: Not Mine – once again, thanks for reading. Sorry, very short chapter. I've decided to split up what could have been one chapter because I'm falling behind on updating. Will try to update soon. _

"Ok guys, we're going to be running some new offensive drills…" George told his team at their next practice. The practice had started later than normal and the seven Gryffindor Quidditch players had lacked focus throughout, their big win too recent in their memories. "Ah...Rebekah…Lexi….are you guys going to pay attention to me?"

"Oh sorry, Professor Weasley." Rebekah apologized, looking up from her giggling conversation with the young seeker.

"I think they're more interested in the dance, Professor," Chet teased his younger teammates.

"Ah, ok," – George nodded, knowing that the school had been ablaze lately with talk of the upcoming Autumn Ball – "But let's just put aside talking about the dance and play some Quidditch." He tried to convey some excitement in his voice, but it was clear that the players' minds were elsewhere. The rest of practice was sloppy but fun. The students were more interested in talking, laughing, and mindless flying than running any overly complicated skills. After trying to get them to focus for the first few minutes, George decided it was best to just let them revel in their recent win. For the remainder of practice, the team played four on four. The match involved more laughter and trash talk than actual Quidditch, but George thought it was alright; his team deserved a chance to just have an enjoyable afternoon after their impressive showing against the Slytherin side.

-o-O-o-

"Everyone sure is into this dance, eh," George said to Hermione at dinner that evening. On his walk from the Quidditch pitch to his living quarters to the Great Hall he had overheard many groups of students eagerly chatting about dance preparations: who they were going with, their plans for the night, and what they were thinking of wearing.

"Can you blame them?" Hermione asked with a grin. "Don't you remember how excited we all got for the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament."

"That's true. Why are we having a dance anyway? The Yule Ball was our only dance when we were at school"

"Well ya…don't mention this to McGonagall, but I think that she secretly really likes having dances. We've had a large ball every year since she's taken over as Headmistress. Last year was a spring one. She gets the castle all decorated and let's all the students attend, even first years. I don't think she'd tell anyone this, and would probably hate me for speculating about it" – Hermione chuckled – "But I think she gets really swept away in the festivities."

"No way" – George whistled, gaining a new appreciation for the normally severe McGonagall – "Well…what's our role in this dance. Do we get to go?" George tried to sound nonchalant; he didn't particularly want to reveal to Hermione that he also really enjoyed a fancy party, especially one with a good dance floor.

"Well we get to chaperone."

"That's no fun,"

"We get to have fun too," Hermione replied with a knowing grin, nudging George slightly on the shoulder.

"So, Mione…are you going to get all done up…dress, hair, etcetera?"

"Of course…I have a brand-new dress just for this occasion. Luna helped me pick it out."

"Well I'll be looking forward to that," George replied slyly, secretly imagining what Hermione would look like on the night of the big ball.

-o-O-o-

The day of the dance arrived quickly. George had decided to give all his classes a lower homework workload for that weekend, knowing that, if he was still in school, he would have appreciated if his teachers had done the same. After spending the entire Saturday morning and a portion of the afternoon in his classroom, finishing up some marking, George finally got up from his desk, realizing that it was time to return to his living quarters to get ready for the Autumn Ball. George closed his classroom door behind him, locking it on his way out with a specialized locking charm. Generally he didn't bother locking his classroom door – as all material that students might be interested in stealing was stowed away in secure cupboards – but knowing that it was the night of the dance made him change his mind; he didn't particularly fancy having students use his classroom as a place to canoodle, something, he was sure, students would be looking for later in the evening.

"George, wait up." A low voice called after George as he walked along the corridor. He turned and saw Neville jogging to catch up to him.

"Hey Nev, how's it going?" George yelled back the hallway as Neville drew closer to him.

"Oh it's pretty good." Neville said as he and George fell into a comfortable pace wandering the corridor. "Are you looking forward to the dance tonight?"

"Ah, honestly…I kind of am," George answered, a little sheepish to be admitting that he was eager for the event that was so obviously aimed at the students. "Are you going?"

"Well, yah. We all have to chaperone."

"Oh right,"

"Yah" – Neville said with a grin – "But Luna and I are going together. So it's not quite as bad as it would seem,"

"You and Luna, eh," George said slyly, giving his friend a playful nudge on the shoulder. "I've been seeing you two around quite a bit together." He looked at Neville and raised his eyebrows in such a way to beg for more information.

"Oh, well, you know," Neville blushed and stumbled over his words. "I, well…it's been going really great."

"That's awesome."

"She's amazing." Neville replied so sincerely that George was unable to hide his smile.

"That's great mate."

"Thanks. So are you taking Hermione to the dance tonight?" Neville asked with a knowing grin.

"Sorry?"

"Yah…Luna and I thought you'd probably be asking Hermione to the dance tonight. So, aren't you?"

"Well Nev. We're not in sixth year or anything. I don't know if I can ask her to a dance that we're chaperoning."

"Sure you can mate" – Neville laughed with a self-confidence that George wasn't accustomed to in his friend – "You really ought to."

"I don't know" – George sighed – "Hermione's great, but I don't think that she feels that way about me."

"Really mate. I think it's fairly obvious that there's something more going on there. Maybe you should talk to her." Neville commented. George wondered if his companion was as aware as he was at how their roles had been directly reversed from their last conversation on a similar topic.

"Er, I don't know…I suppose I'll see her tonight at the dance." George contemplated aloud before saying goodbye to Neville in order to turn down the appropriate corridor towards his living quarters. He knew that they were being rather immature. The dance wasn't for them and it was not really their place to invite people to the dance which they were only supposed to be going to in order to be responsible adults. Nevertheless, he still was excited and a little nervous for the ball.

-o-O-o-

Once in his flat, George stood before his closet for some time, weighing his clothing options. After holding several shirts next to his chest, trying to determine which shade of blue best suit him, George finally settled on a deep, royal blue top that he had been told on several occasions brought attention to his eyes. He pulled a complementary silver-grey tie off his tie rack and knotted it around his neck. A charcoal grey jacket completed his look.

George left his flat and hurried to the Great Hall. When he first walked into the Hall, he was stunned; the place looked nothing like the dining room to which he was accustomed. McGonagall, Hermione, and Luna had been working on decorating the Hall all day and the large, cavernous room was entirely transformed. The Great Hall was made to look like a forest in the twilight. Giant oak trees grew around the edges of the Hall, their foliage coming together at the ceiling to form a canopy. George noticed that there were breaks in the rooftop of trees where the twinkling stars could be seen above. It all seemed so real that George almost forgot that he wasn't actually outside. A number of long tables were set up in the Hall and were covered with shimmering, ivory fabric and large, centerpieces of a mix of green foliages. The middle of the Hall's floor was cleared for a dance floor. Dim lights shone up from the ground indicating the edges of the glittering surface. A silvery blue mist had settled around the edges of the Hall, which gave the Hall a fanciful and otherworldly feel. George sensed that there was something mystical about the room and found that he was becoming rather swept away in the magic of it all.

"Hermione! This looks amazing," George said, noticing his friend standing at edge of the room. He wandered over to join her. "And you look amazing too," He proclaimed after taking a long look at his companion in her fancy outfit. Hermione was wearing a strapless cocktail dress. In the dimmed lighting of the Hall, George couldn't tell if it was a deep blue or a dark purple. The way it seemed to change colour depending on the particular light made him wonder if it was, in fact, both shades. The dress dipped at the front in a soft, sweetheart neckline, that managed to be mysterious enough to provide allure and modest enough to be an appropriate outfit for a chaperone. The fullness of the skirt made Hermione look whimsical rather than sultry. She was wearing lofty, black pumps that had a slight sheen and the same long strand of pearls that she had worn on her birthday. Her normally bushy hair had been slicked back into an elegant bouffant and was kept in place with pins that were capped with tiny pearls. Her makeup was minimal but effective. The whole look perfectly suited the twilight setting of the dance.

"You're looking very handsome yourself George," Hermione smiled revealing her teeth and looking more like the easy-going young woman with whom George was such good friends.

"Thanks. I put a lot of time into my outfit," George joked.

"Clearly," Hermione retorted with a gleam in her eye. "Do you want to come with me to check on the band?" George glanced to the raised partition where the teachers' table generally stood; a band was setting up musical instruments next to the dance floor. George vaguely recognized them as a musical group that was popular with some of his younger, former Quidditch teammates.

"Sure," George offered his arm to Hermione who gratefully accepted and the pair wandered over to the band to help ensure that their instruments were enchanted to play at an appropriate volume. "Hey Neville's here," George mentioned, noting that his friend had entered the Hall and made an immediate beeline to Luna. Luna was wearing the same yellow cocktail dress that she had on at Hermione's birthday party. She had, however, not opted to wear a cardigan with it, revealing the delicate spaghetti straps of the dress. She was wearing a heavy necklace that supported a large, gold-coloured pendant of some sort of flower that George had never seen before. George was certain that Luna had designed the piece on her own. Her hair was loose and fell smoothly down her back, almost reaching her waist. After George and Hermione made sure that the band was ready, the pair joined Neville and Luna in the corner of the Hall.

"Hey mate. Looking sharp," George said, slapping hands with Neville. Neville was dressed in a dark suit and dark tie over a crisp white shirt. He was standing proudly with his shoulders back and his arm wrapped around Luna's waist.

"Thanks mate, good to see you two here…" Neville said with a bit of mystery in his voice and a slight nod at George. George immediately knew what his friend was referring to, but only offered a slight smile in reply. The four professors chatted amiably until the students began to enter. All were dressed in their finest outfits and had gleams in their eyes at the prospect of the night.

"Ok you four" – McGonagall said, sweeping by George and his friends – "Have fun tonight, but keep your eyes open for any shenanigans. I hope we will not have any problems." McGonagall was wearing a long lacy, black dress and a wide smile. There was a twinkle in McGonagall's grey eyes that normally did not exist. George had never seen the stern Headmistress look so overjoyed. He remembered that Hermione had mentioned that she thought that McGonagall quite enjoyed the fancy affairs and realized that she was probably correct. "I trust that I'll see all of you on the dance floor at some point in the night." George nodded in response to McGonagall's comment, not quite sure what to make of his boss's sudden frivolity.

"I'm sure we'll all take full advantage, Minerva," Hermione smiled impishly. The band started playing an upbeat tune which George thought sounded familiar and hired servers began handing out smoky beverages in glittering champagne flutes. George realized that the drinks were non-alcoholic, but accepted one off a passing tray nevertheless. The beverage was a surprising combination of sweet and savory. He sipped his drink with a smile while glancing around the room. Students were already starting to fill the dance floor, some eagerly, some with timid expressions on their faces as they reached to their partners with trembling hands. George looked down at Hermione beside him and smiled at her fanciful expression and sparkling eyes. He had the sense that he was in for a memorable night.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen **

_Author's Note: Not Mine. As always, appreciate all of you who are reading, for reals! Sorry that it took me so long to update – bit of writer's block going on…_

It didn't take long for the Autumn Ball to be fully underway. Less than an hour after students had started arriving the Hall was full and the dance floor was stocked with spinning youngsters, all eager to be bouncing and moving to the upbeat music produced by the band. George grinned widely from his vantage point off to the side. He wasn't exactly sure what his duties as chaperon were and figured that remaining towards the edges, diligently observing the crowd, was the most appropriate. Even while remaining removed from the action, George couldn't help but get carried away in the excitement of the dance. There was something about the air in the Hall that made George feel lightheaded and the infectious music caused a natural reaction of movement. As George stood, he found that his toe was tapping along to the music and he smiled while watching the dancers. The twinkling atmosphere, the upbeat music, and the swirling colours of the bright dresses which most of the female students had favoured all contributed to the fanciful feeling of the night.

"Hey George" – Hermione spoke softly beside him – "Do you think we ought to get more in the midst of this party that we're supposed to be supervising?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come with me." Hermione's voice sounded like a whisper, but George realized that its quietness may just be attributed to the loudness of their surroundings. George followed obediently while his friend grabbed him by the elbow and led him onto the dance floor. As they strolled to the middle of this surface, George passed the familiar faces of his students who were far more interested in their own movement or in getting closer to their classmates than in him and Hermione making their way past the dancers.

"No need to get so close, Higgins," Hermione instructed, tapping the tall, redhead on the shoulder as she and George passed a young couple taking advantage of the crowded dance floor and the fact that the band had switched to a slow, tender melody, in order to have a shocking amount of body contact. "Susan, you know better than that," Hermione continued to the young man's dance partner in mock sternness. George could easily see a playful smile forming at the corners of his friend's mouth. He knew that, while she would take her chaperoning duties seriously, she had no intentions of dampening the students' enjoyment of the dance. When they reached the very centre of the surface, Hermione stopped and spun to face George. With a look that George was certain bordered on flirtation, she gently placed both her hands around the back of George's neck. Cautiously, aware that he was surrounded by his students and coworkers, George took Hermione by the waist and pulled her in towards him, until she was close enough that he could feel the heat emanating off her chest and torso, but far enough away that a sliver of daylight still separated their bodies.

Dancing was always something George had found easy. Moving naturally along to the rhythm of most music was something he was able to do without thinking. He capably led Hermione through the swirling bodies, gently guiding her along with the lilt of the music. As they danced, his inhibitions about being so close to his friend in his workplace setting began to drift away and George moved his hands to Hermione's lower back, pulling her in tightly against to him. Hermione, for her part, moved effortlessly, never fighting against George's lead, but never feeling particularly pliable in his hands. Rather, she knew how she wanted to move, and did so accordingly. Their movement was minimalistic, matching the simplicity of the song that was playing. Instead of being overly concerned about the steps he was taking, George took the time to enjoy how Hermione felt in his arms. He could smell a sweetness that vaguely resembled the scent of strawberries on her hair. Her breasts pressed softly up against his torso, causing his heart to beat rapidly, something he sincerely hoped went undetected by Hermione. The fabric of her dress was smooth underneath his hands and he could almost feel the subtlety of the curve of her lower back beneath the cover of her dress. George tried to appreciate every second, knowing that, all too soon, the song would be over.

Of course, the song had to end eventually. When it did, the band rushed into an upbeat tune and the students whistled and hollered appreciatively as they began to increase their movements: jumping in spot, pumping their fists in the air, and allowing their limps to flail energetically. George groaned inwardly when Hermione separated herself from him. Unlike his students, he was not pleased at the increase in the music's tempo. Instead, he wished the slow music would continue for far longer. George grinned, however, when Hermione grabbed his hand and moved to their music, indicating that their time dancing was not yet over. Maintaining a firm grasp on her hand, George twirled his friend on the spot, laughing as she gamely spun, her dress floating up slightly with the force. He caught her as she slowed. With his hand still in hers, he eagerly placed his other at her waist. Hermione smiled enthusiastically and grabbed hold of George's shoulder, giggling as he led her through a lively foxtrot-like dance.

"If you're going to keep me moving so fast, how am I to keep an eye on the students?" Hermione strained her back to whisper into George's good ear.

"Er, we can go back to the sidelines if you think it's for the best," George suggested slyly, hoping that she would refuse.

"Oh, no. I think everything is going just fine. I'm sure the other professors don't mind taking a moment to watch the dance," Hermione said playfully. She stood normally and George could see that her cheeks were flushed vibrantly as she bit her soft pink lips.

"I don't know about that," George said as he pulled Hermione closer to him and nodded his head to the side, drawing Hermione's attention to McGonagall and Slughorn, who were energetically waltzing past them. Slughorn's face was bright red as his booming laughter filled the dance floor. Even McGonagall was wearing a wider smile than George had ever seen from the authoritarian Headmistress.

"Well, we'll just have to trust that everyone is being behaved," Hermione joked, entirely out of character with her old Hogwarts self. George laughed heartily at his friend's comment and her nonchalantly coy expression. For hardly the first time, he was so impressed with the woman the driven bookworm had grown into. She had managed to maintain all her diligence, intelligence, and convictions while blossoming into a young woman who was able to find enjoyment in the simplicities of life and exhibit an undeniable easygoingness that so appealed to him. He looked down at Hermione as she twisted effortlessly in his arms – her gleaming golden eyes, her perfectly shaped lips, and her slightly freckled nose – and was overwhelmed by his desire to be closer to her in every way imaginable.

"Er…Hermione…I'm, a…felling a little light headed. I might need to go sit down for a bit, if you don't mind." He stammered, disappointed in himself for cutting their time together short, but not knowing how much longer his increasingly wavering legs would be able to support him.

"Oh, of course…let's go get some water or something," Hermione spoke sympathetically and started pushing her way past the dancing students. George followed with a hand still on his friend's shoulder. He smiled when they passed Neville and Luna. The pair was dancing close together, barely moving: treating the upbeat song as if it were a slow melody. He and Hermione finally reached the edge of the dance surface. George breathed deeply when they passed the last of the spinning bodies. He was surprised at how much easier it was to breathe once off the dance floor; he hadn't been aware that the crowded surface had been so stuffy.

Hermione led him towards a couple of empty chairs beside one of the long tables. Gratefully, George sunk into one while Hermione gracefully perched on one beside him.

"Wow…Tonight has been amazing," George complementing his friend, who he knew had been heavily involved in the planning process. "Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves." George commented, glancing around the room. The joy and the excitement within the Hall were obvious. Hermione nodded her silent agreement and the pair sat momentarily in stillness, sipping the drinks they had procured from a passing waiter.

As George drank his water, he had to ruefully sigh at his lack of dance floor stamina. There was a time when he would have been one of the last left on the floor, eagerly twirling any available girls around, excited to show off his complicated moves. He leaned back in his chair resignedly; after all, such times couldn't last forever and it was to be expected that, as he aged, he wouldn't be able to keep up with his younger self. His chair felt awfully comfortable and, as he watched the energetic students, he realized that there were younger men now to fill his old role as most conspicuous person on the dance floor.

George placed his empty class on the table. The dance floor, he noticed, was starting to empty. Glancing at his watch, he realized that it was starting to get late. Only older students remained on the dance floor. He figured that McGonagall must have started to herd the younger ones off to bed.

"Ready for another dance?" Hermione asked when the band began another slow song. George nodded and took her by the hand to lead her to the dance floor. This time, without hesitation, George scooped Hermione into his arms, entwining his hands around her back and pulling her tightly against his torso. Since Hermione didn't resist the intimacy of the contact, George continued to hold her tight as they swayed together in time with the soft, rhythmic lilt of the band's gentle, acoustic song. Feeling slightly self-conscious regarding the firmness of their embrace, George glanced around the dance floor to ensure that they were not being observed. One quick look indicated that he had nothing to be concerned about; all the couples on the dance floor were equally invested in their own dances. The dance floor was spattered with entwined couples, all swaying slightly, none particularly observant of their surroundings. George sighed with pleasure when Hermione rested her head against his chest. Releasing the last of his reservations, George gently dropped his chin onto the top of Hermione's head, allowing as much of his body to come into contact with Hermione as was socially acceptable. As George's hands lay against Hermione's lower back, he resisted the temptation to let his hands explore her back. He wanted to let them run over her body, caressing her skin through the satin of her dress, but knew better and fought the urge.

"Thanks everyone. Thanks for such a great night," the lead singer of the band called out as the final chords of the song trailed away. The remaining students on the dance floor groaned as they realized that the band was finished playing and the night had come to an end. George released his tight grip of Hermione. His feelings matched the groans of his students; he too was disappointed that the evening was over.

"Thanks for the dance," He told Hermione, staring down at her fondly. Even after a long night on the sweaty dance floor, Hermione still managed to look sweet and well-put together. Her hair had started to escape her once elegant bouffant, but the curls that now framed her face didn't detract from her prettiness. Her dress was not rumbled and she showed no signs of dishevel that one might expect after a night of energetic dancing on the crowded dance floor.

"Anytime" – she smiled – "hey…" Hermione asked with a slight hesitation in her expression, "Would you be interested in doing a sweep of the castle with me? We're just supposed to make sure no kids are out causing trouble or anything."

"Yah, of course," George responded so quickly that he worried that he was being too eager. "I could definitely do that with you." He remembered noticing couples leaving the Hall hand in hand throughout the night and assumed that the trouble Hermione mentioned referred to such couples. After the Yule Ball, he recalled, many couples had ran off after the dance in hopes of finding empty classrooms or available crannies were they would be able to spend quality time. Tonight his job, he realized, would be to discourage such behaviour, rather than participated in it as he once had.

-o-O-o-

The castle's corridors were silent as George and Hermione wandered them, looking for potentially problem-causing students. Despite peeking into all the classrooms and closets, they didn't see any students who required reprimanding.

"I guess students are more behaving now than they used to be," George joked, gently closing the door of, yet another, empty third-floor classroom. "I distinctly remember more trouble happening when we were here as students." He chuckled softly at his own comment. Hermione replied with a laugh, but George was certain that he saw a slight grimace on her face. "Hey, Mione. You ok?"

"Oh…erm…ya. These shoes a little mental though. My feet are suffering." Hermione giggled, but George could tell that she was in discomfort.

"My lady," He said with mock valiancy and offered Hermione his arm. He tried to play the gesture as casual so that Hermione wouldn't think that he was treating her as particularly feeble. "May I be of assistance?"

"Ah…that would be lovely," Hermione accepted George's arm and they continued their walk along the corridor. George could tell that Hermione was still labouring; she was leaning most of her weight on George's arm and taking impossibly tiny steps.

"You know, my classroom is just up ahead," George pointed at the relevant door which was several metres in front of the pair. "Why don't we go have a rest before the finishing this little hunt?"

"Yah, that would be great," Hermione smiled gratefully. It was clear that she was eager to give her feet a break from walking in her towering stilettos. George helped Hermione down the remainder of the corridor. He tapped his wand against his classroom door and muttered the appropriate incantation to undo his specialized locking charm.

"Well, no one in here either," He joked once he opened the door. Hermione stumbled to his desk where she boosted herself on the top of George's desk and gleefully slid off her shoes, sighing with relief once they were off. She placed her shoe on George's desk beside her and stretched out her feet, smiling delightedly as she wiggled her toes.

"Doing better there, Mione?" George asked with a smile as he sat in his desk chair. He lounged back and spread his legs out under his desk. Leaning his head against the back of his chair, he looked up at Hermione. Her wide smile, twinkling eyes, and loose curls only served to make her look prettier in George's eyes. Maybe it was the excitement of the night, the dancing induced lightheadedness, or the unmistakable traces of blossoming romances in the atmosphere. Maybe it was the way Hermione glittered in her formal cocktail gown, the way she smiled down at him from her perch on his desk, or the lively mirth shinning from her eyes. Whatever it was, it was enough to overpower George. When Hermione leaned back on her hands and giggled contentedly, George realized that it would be impossible for him to wait any longer before making a move. Acting without really thinking and with no regard for the consequences of getting caught, George reached up and grasped Hermione by the waist in order to pull her into his lap. Hermione obliged, allowed George to pull her onto his lap. As Hermione sat across his legs, George looped one arm securely around her to hold her in place while his other hand ran along her thigh.

"Hermione," He muttered, his eyes begging for approval. She bit her lip and nodded slightly. Their lips met. The sweetness of Hermione's mouth overwhelmed George. He longed to taste every centimeter of her, but restrained himself to her mouth. He finally let his hands explore her body, running them along the smoothness of her dress, tracing the soft, exposed skin of her shoulders. As Hermione rubbed his hair, George bristled with pleasure. She moved her hands behind his neck and pulled his head closer to hers, deepening their kiss. George couldn't remember another time when he felt so overcome by pleasure as he did when their tongues finally met. He wanted the moment to never end and felt something close to devastation when Hermione eventually broke the kiss.

"Mione, what is it? Is everything alright?" George asked hastily, hoping that he hadn't done anything to offend her.

"George. Students could walk in at any minute," Hermione muttered nervously, her eyes centred on George's.

"I don't fucking care," He replied with conviction.

"I don't know George." Hermione stood up and straightened the skirt of her now rumbled dress. She had turned to walk towards the door before George really realized what was happening.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen **

_Author's Note: Just a short chapter, so I decided not to wait in posting it. Thanks for reading! Once again, not mine. _

"Hermione!" George called anxiously at her back as she strode towards the door. "Don't leave." George was still seated awkwardly in his desk chair. He felt rumpled from their kiss, knowing that his tie was disheveled and his jacked haphazard. As he sat with his arms uncomfortably at his side, not sure what to do with them now that Hermione was no longer in them, he felt helpless at the prospect that she might be leaving. He glanced from Hermione's back to the desk beside him and noticed that Hermione's lofty sparkly, black heels were still sitting on the desktop. "Mione, you don't even have your shoes," He added, knowing that his pleading sounded pathetic and feeble.

"I know that George," Hermione looked over her shoulder with a laugh. "I'm just locking the door. I told you I was worried about students coming in." Hermione chuckled, produced her wand from a fold of her dress, and tapped it several times against George's door. "There we go," She smiled and leaned against the door, looking at George with an expression of admiration and longing. "Now, where were we?" Even though her high heeled, pumps were still resting on the desk, Hermione walked back to George on her tip-toes, moving with a graceful stride, a smile decorating her face.

"I know where we were," George grinned, his voice husky as he took Hermione in his arms and pulled her back into his lap. Hermione obliged to George's direction and found a spot on his lap. She crossed her knees as she sat sidesaddle across George's legs. Tenderly, she reached up and entwined her hands behind Georges' head, tugging his face closer towards hers. He cupped his hands over her cheeks and gentle pulled her head up towards his, lowering down to complete the distance. Easily finding her lips with his, he started a long, passionate kiss, which Hermione reciprocated with an undeniable eagerness. "Oh my stars, Mione," George muttered when they separated momentarily so that both could find the air which they had been deprived of during the course of their kiss. "You have no idea…no idea, how long I've wanted this…how bad…."

"Probably just about as long as I have," Hermione replied with a smile. She bit her noticeably raw lips and offered George a slight, sly smile. Her voice had a trace of flirtation in it, but George could also sense her sincerity. He rubbed his hands along the silky smoothness of her upper arms and looked deeply into her eyes, loving the goldenness, intelligence, and familiarity within them. Disliking the distance between them, George didn't hesitate before he, once again, took her mouth in his. This kiss was slower than the furious one they had just shared, but exceeded the earlier one in passion.

George felt comfortable in the fact that Hermione wasn't leaving again, and let his lips pause over hers, truly taking in every possible surface of her mouth. His breath was coming faster his heart was beating rapidly. As he held Hermione, he could tell that her heart beat had also accelerated, matching his. Hermione didn't display any trepidation in her kiss, as it was forceful and yet tender at the same time. With eagerness, she returned the delirious passion of George's kiss and her hands didn't hesitate to explore George's back. His mind was clouded by his passion and he felt as if in a dreamlike state. Consequently, he was barely cognitive when Hermione vigorously yanked at his tie, loosening the knot with one hand, and pulling it over his head. Her hands enthusiastically flew to his neck and she tenderly rubbed his exposed skin.

George – in his many fantasies on the subject – had always imagined that Hermione would be rather shy and reserved when it came to matters of love. However, her aggression surprised and delighted him. He longed to just sit back and enjoy himself while Hermione had her way with him, but knew that such an approach would probably leave her feeling unfulfilled. Instead of being entirely submissive, George rose to match Hermione's spirited actions, taking her firmly in his arms and kissing her with much of his strength. He deepened the kiss, allowing his tongue to experience most of her mouth. Hermione gasped audible, momentarily breaking their kiss.

"Oh Merlin, you're sexy," She murmured with a forwardness that caused George's skin to shiver.

"I'm pretty sure you have all the sexy wrapped up," He teased as they both gasped for much needed breaths. "You're so beautiful, it's mental." He spoke sincerely, believing every word, but Hermione shrugged as her cheeks took on a deeper flush.

"Whatever George," She muttered and rolled her eyes.

"Don't even, Mione. You're so crazy sexy. No let's be quiet and get back to snogging." George realized that, for a compliment, his statement sounded awfully demanding and dismissal of her concerns, but Hermione seemed to understand the spirit of his comment as she smiled sweetly and pulled George's head closer to hers before engulfing his mouth once again. As they kissed, George couldn't tell what was the most appealing: Hermione's soft, gentle lips on his, her warmth in his arms, her sighs and moans of pleasure in response to his touch, or the way her arms feverously caressed his back. It didn't take long for him to decide that it hardly mattered which was superior, as all combined were so, insanely physically rewarding. Once again, he allowed his consciousness to drift away as his mind shut off and his body took over. Soon his kisses were coming so rapidly and with such force, while his tongue explored so deeply into Hermione's mouth that he was worried that his friend felt discomfort. Nothing in Hermione demeanor, however, indicated that she felt anything other than pleasure. Her aggression mirrored, and possibly surpassed, George's, as she pulled on his shoulders to lever herself more securely in his lap, allowing the full length of their torsos to come into contact. The enjoyment found in the physicality of the moment left George feeling intoxicated, drunk on Hermione's touch and on her kiss. He wanted to moment to never end.

-o-O-o-

Regrettably, the moment had to end eventually. George's mouth was raw when Hermione finally separated from him and reminded him that they had to finish the job they had been doing before it had been interrupted by their desires. With his body still alive from the passion that had been shared between them, George obediently followed Hermione through the rest of the castle, looking for straggling students who had forgone their curfews in order to share in moments similar to the one George had Hermione had just been enjoying. Once their search was complete, George walked Hermione back to her quarters and kissed her soundly goodnight. It had been hardly over an hour since he had kissed her for the first time, but already her lips had a familiar taste: a taste that he already cherished and missed when her lips were no longer on his.

"Good night, Mione," George said, his voice husky, as Hermione let herself into her flat.

"Night George. I'll see you tomorrow," She replied with a coy smile as she shut the door behind her. George's heart was light as he practically skipped down the corridors to his quarters. He had known for a long time that he wanted to express his feelings for Hermione in a physical way, but it wasn't until it actually happened that George truly realized just how much he had wanted her. Thoughts of Hermione – her taste, her smell, the way she felt in his arms – filled his mind as he entered his flat. Contently, he tossed his already discarded tie over its rack and peeled off his shirt and pants. With his mind cloudy and his heart saturated with joy, he collapsed into bed and fell into a deep, peaceful slumber.

_Author's Note: Stay tuned – only one chapter left. I'm writing an epilogue right now! _


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen – Epilogue**

_Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! I can't believe this is the last chapter…_

George stood with his shoulders back, his height as his tallest, and his arms awkwardly hanging at his side. His mouth was dry and his chest was filled as his heart beat rapidly with excitement. He looked to his left, where Ron, Bill, Charlie, Harry, and Neville stood with proud smiles on all of their faces. The noticeable absence caused a sting of pain to hit him abruptly, but he breathed deeply, letting the knowledge of how proud Fred would be if he was there for his twin's special day. The thought that Fred was somewhere, looking down with a mischievous grin on his face, helped George's pain to subside. George looked over the sea of people, easily finding his parents in the front row. His mother's face was damp with tears, but her face boasted a wide smile. A crowd of George's nieces and nephews surrounded his parents, with four-year-old James – Harry and Ginny's eldest – in the very middle.

As George waited for the processional music to begin and Hermione to follow her bridesmaids down the aisle, he thought back over the course of their relationship. He remembered the morning after they had shared their first kiss. George had rushed to Hermione's flat first thing in the morning, eager to see her, hoping that she hadn't regretted the events of the previous night. They had laughed over tea and scones when they realized that both had long harboured feelings for the other, upon which both were too timid to act. The rest of the school year had passed quickly. George and Hermione had kept their relationship private for most of the year, but when McGonagall and the rest of the faculty did find out about it, they were all happy for the pair. Even Terence hadn't shown any hard feelings towards them. He had approached George in the Great Hall several weeks after George and Hermione's relationship had become known to give George his blessings and wish him well.

At the end of the school year there had been a large feast in the Hall for all the students to celebrate completing another year. George had grinned proudly when his Gryffindor Quidditch team collected the second place trophy. They hadn't managed to beat the powerhouse Hufflepuffs, but George had been delighted with their performance throughout the year nevertheless. After the feast, George and the rest of the faculty retired to Professor Slughorn's office for celebratory drinks. McGonagall had pulled him aside at the party and asked him to return the following year to teach Charms again. Without hesitation, George had accepted her offer; it had been a long time since he had been as happy as he was teaching at Hogwarts.

As he stood in the bright sun in the Weasley's backyard, George could feel his palms grow sweaty when the acoustic band began to play a slow, soft song. Luna, the first of Hermione's bridesmaids began her walk down the aisle and George's mind drifted to the moment when he had proposed to Hermione. He had taken her flying for the day, stopping in a heather covered field in the highlands: a spot he had rested in during his first flight to Hogwarts. There, with the sun shining upon them, he had knelt down on a bended knee and asked her to be his wife. His breath finally came easy when she had accepted immediately.

As Anna – Ron's wife and Hermione's second Bridesmaid – began her walk down the aisle, George looked out over their guests. He easily spotted past friends from Hogwarts, Hermione's mother, former students, his and Hermione's coworkers, and other familiar faces from the wizard community.

Ginny, Hermione's maid of honour, finished her walk and George felt his excitement rise, knowing that Hermione would be the next down the aisle. Despite his excitement for his bride, George had to take a moment to appreciate his little sister. Even though she was noticeably pregnant with her and Harry's second child, she still managed to look perfect in the lavender cocktail dress that Hermione and her bridesmaids had chosen. When the band changed the tune to the one Hermione had chosen for her own walk, George's face broke in to a wide smile at the prospect of his bride appearing. Soon, she emerged at the top of the aisle with her father standing proudly by her side. The sight of Hermione was almost more than George could handle; she just looked so beautiful. Her hair was down, falling over her shoulders in silky ringlets. She was a vision in her lace wedding gown. Every aspect of the dress suited her perfectly, from the subtle sweetheart neckline, to the soft flare over her hips and the lavender sash highlighting her narrow waist. Everything surrounding him disappeared except for his bride. Hermione was the only thing he cared about in the moment. In Hermione, George saw the best of his past and, what he knew, would be the best of his future. He imagined the many years they would share together; years that he was sure would be filled with joy, happiness, and red-headed children.

"You're gorgeous," George whispered to her when she stepped up on the raise platform to join him in front of their friends and family.

"You are too," She replied while a delicate smile decorated her face.

His older brother Percy, the officiator of the ceremony, cleared his throat and began a pre-prepared speech on love, faithfulness, and relationships. George was sure that the talk was lovely, but he didn't listen to any of it as his entire attention was solely directed at Hermione. The ceremony passed in a blur. George was barely aware as he repeated his vows upon Percy's directions: his mind was all too overwhelmed with the gravity of the moment and the excitement of the day. The kiss, however, he did remember. As he took his new bride in his arms and kissed her soundly to the cheers and hollers of his guests, George realized it was a moment he would never forget.

_Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who read my story! I'm already working on my next one, so I would love it if people will have a look at that one once it gets posted [Hopefully soon – add me to Author Alert if you're interested]. I'm hoping it will be better than this story, which I don't think I did that good of a job on. I'm going to try to develop more of a plot for my next one and I think having it from Hermione's perspective will be an improvement. I realize I took WAY too long getting to any romance on this story so I'm definitely going to make sure the next is heavier on romance….promise! So if you didn't really like this story, I'm expecting the next to be an improvement. _

_Also, I'm not that great at coming up with plots so feel free to message me any suggestions if you'd like! Also, if there are other "ships" you'd like me to include or write about, I'd be interested in hearing [especially advice on whom Ron should be paired with…I'm definitely not a Ron hater, I just prefer Hermione/George. Ron will most likely have a much bigger role in my next story…]! Thanks again! – SJ _

Here's a little preview of my next story: **The Many Lessons of Hermione Granger – **_Summary: Several years after the Battle at Hogwarts, Hermione's life had settled into a rut until a handsome, young Quidditch player teaches her to throw out the rulebook – A Hermione/George Story _


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